


Dark Beginnings: Being Book One of the Bloodline Trilogy

by Rieru



Series: The Bloodline Trilogy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:46:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rieru/pseuds/Rieru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dark storm looms, the Dark Lady will rise, and a legend shall rise from the depths to face her challenge.</p>
<p>But that is in the far distant future, decades after the events of Dark Beginnings transpire. For a Lady must once have been young, and they must have learned their magics somewhere.</p>
<p>Morgana Gaunt, last in a long line of Pureblood Elitists stemming from Salazar Slytherin himself, is raised in a piteous household, subject to brutal lessons before her spell at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  As she begins her journey through the historical school, Morgana draws around her a tight-knit group of trouble-makers. Some share her desire to once more bring the Purebloods into total power over the Wizarding World, some just want a piece of her power, and some are too cowardly to turn aside from her malice. Her two closest companions, Evan Rosier and Indigena Yaxley, are among those who delight in the troubles of others, and together the three pose a formidable threat to the wellbeing of Hogwarts.</p>
<p>Dark Beginnings will see Morgana grow through her years at Hogwarts to her adulthood, where the story shall be continued in Book Two of the Bloodline Trilogy: The Purest Hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Beginnings: Being Book One of the Bloodline Trilogy

**Author's Note:**

> Dark Beginnings, being Part One of the Bloodline Trilogy, is a piece of extended fiction based loosely upon the world of J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter, using elements of mythology from the world of J. R. R. Tolkien's Middle-Earth. Dark Beginnings will tell of the years of Morgana Gaunt's ancestors, before delving into her dark childhood, in which she grows up under the cruel watch of her grandfather Marvolo and her father, Morfin. It will then tell the tale of Morgana's years at Hogwarts School, before telling an abridged tale of her years following Hogwarts, before her Return. This project should culminate in the completion, pending editing, of Dark Beginnings, and will pave the way for Part Two: The Purest Hour.
> 
> Disclaimer: The world and locations used within this work are primarily the creations of J. K. Rowling (worlds and locations related to Harry Potter) and J. R. R. Tolkien (mentions of locations, deities, and mythologies), and are the sole copyright of their respective owners. Certain characters are the creation of Lightning on the Wave (characters from the Sacrifices Arc fanfiction megaseries). Any other characters that are not clearly borrowed are my own.

 

Prologue

-1-

A tall man, hooded and cloaked in scarlet robes, sat astride a white steed, proud and unparalleled in terms of speed and strength, with a silver horn glittering as it rose from the beast’s skull. The face beneath the hood was lined, as with countless years, though the man could not have been older than fifty. His auburn hair fell to his shoulders and out of the hood, ragged and dirty now, having gone unwashed for countless weeks, and a glint of green shone from where the eyes must have been, merciless and calculating. A metal screech rang through the air as the man sheathed a glittering sword, and Godric Gryffindor scowled down at the broken figure in the dirt, shrouded in emerald robes.

"Think of it, old friend. Think of what _he_ would have said if he could see you now. Broken, defeated, and your ideals crushed.” Godric shook his head, about to turn his steed towards the castle behind him, when a voice rasped from the figure beneath him.

 

“You knew him as well as I, Gryffindor, and you know what he would have thought. He was _pure_ ; he would have agreed, nay, aided my ideals.” A face, grey and streaked with blood, turned up from the ground and stared unflinchingly at Godric. Black hair, already greying in places, was strewn across the face, and cold eyes flickered with malice as they beheld the sight of Gryffindor before them. He tossed his head towards the two women mounted beside Gryffindor, one clad in deep-blue robes, the other in amber. They were proud, and the face of Rowena Ravenclaw was stern as she beheld her former friend. Helga Hufflepuff, however, seemed withdrawn, even conflicted about seeing her once-friend kneeling before them.

 

“You and your friends worship him as a saviour of the magical race, the friend and servant of the muggle _scum_ , those who would have us crawling on all fours as mongrels and hounds. But if you still believe that he was the champion of _mudbloods_ and _squibs_ , then you knew him not at all, “ _old friend_ ”. Mark me, Gryffindor, my line has not failed, and it shall rise mightier than you can possibly believe. There are secrets in this school that you cannot imagine, and not just of my own invention. For you know who sleeps beneath our school, and you know the power within him. You banish the evil memories of our final encounter with him, and remember only the memories of him serving the _muggle scum_ Arthur of Camelot. When he awakes, when my one true heir returns to this castle, this school will crumble into _dust_ , and my revenge upon you shall be complete.”

 

“So long as there is evil in this world, Slytherin, there will be those to defend it. The line of Arthur continues still, and I hereby proclaim that as long as a member of the Slytherin line exists upon this earth, a member of the Gryffindor clan shall be alive to protect the line of Arthur until his return to this world. Furthermore, I shall reside evermore within the castle of Hogwarts as a spirit guarding over the Headmaster’s Study, though it may be that none shall behold my form again.”

Rowena, to Gryffindor’s right, nodded her ascent, and spoke now in a cold, crisp voice, dislodged of its usual warmth, her dark eyes blazing. A glittering tiara was perched in her hair, and it appeared to shine brighter as she spoke.

 

“I too shall return to this castle following my departure from this world. Though there is much in Afterworld that I would research and explore, the safety and protection of my castle will always take priority. The line of Ravenclaw shall live on through my spirit, and through the line of my daughter, should she wed and bear a child of her own, and it will _not_ allow this castle to fall. While you and your kin survive on this planet, know this, Slytherin. They are not, and will _never_ be, safe. Mark me, Slytherin.”

 

Helga shifted and looked sadly down at Salazar, her light-blue eyes suddenly dark and grim.

“I am sorry this was allowed to happen, Salazar. That such dark days should be ours is a fate I should never have bestowed on any of us. Many of our students lay dead around us, and our remaining staff have fled with what students remain alive. It is my hope that Hogwarts will recover from these… _atrocities_ , and that your betrayal to our school and our nation will hereafter be condemned and thought of in ill-light. Be gone from this castle, and never return to the realms of England and Alba, nor shall you be permitted to come to the realm of Ireland, across the western channel. Otherwise, you are given leave to go as you will, for your wand is broken, and your “legacy” already spreads to the mainland, and all known wandmakers are under strict orders to never provide for you a new wand. Your kin and your line do not have this restriction, but they are under pain of death should they allow you usage of their wand, or attempt to find a way for you to return to these shores. If you will, you may even journey across the Western Ocean to that-which-is-called Newfoundland. But mark this, Salazar, you will be _watched_ ; where-so-ever you may go. You have experienced our wrath first-hand, and though I am hesitant to extend it so again, you should be wary. If you attempt to rile against us any force of wizards, or attempt to poison the minds of the peoples of any realm towards your perverse ways of thinking, you will be utterly destroyed, and your kin and line with you. I swear this by blood and bone, by storm and crow.”

Throughout her speech, Helga’s eyes had hardened, and her fists clenched about the reins of her steed. As she finished, however, she shook her head, shaken, and turned her horse about, heading for the castle.

 

Ravenclaw stayed a moment longer, staring down at her fallen foe, before wheeling about herself and heading for the castle.

Gryffindor stayed, before dismounting and striding over to Salazar. With one hand on his sword, he knelt and offered his free hand to Salazar to aid the man to his feet. He was gifted with a wad of saliva across his palm and he stood, angered. With an embittered thought, he willed the mucus away, and drew his wand. Aiming it between Slytherin’s eyes, he spoke coldly.

“I have given you every opportunity to redeem yourself in this war, Slytherin. I have attempted to reason with your better judgment, and I offered you aid in regaining your stability just now. My patience is gone, and I give you this warning of my own accord. If I _ever_ see your face on these isles again, you will rue the day you were born. Though Helga spoke of the breaking of your wand, I know your trickery. I know that, as with Helga, Rowena and I, you possess lordly abilities and do not rely on any focal point of magic. But mark me, watch and warrant, Slytherin. I will kill you sooner than hail you, should I look upon your face again. Now be gone from these lands, and trouble us no more.”

 

And so it came to pass that Salazar Slytherin, once proud co-founder of perhaps the most renowned wizarding institution in the history of the world, disappeared into the night and was not seen by his once-friends again, save once, at the time of his death.  
Fleeing the Britannic realms, Salazar made his way to the mainland continent, and there he rested for a time, before creating for himself a castle, though not so grand as Hogwarts, in the land-that-would-be-Transylvania, and from this castle many legends sprang up, but that is not this story.

From this castle, Salazar built up his status as Grand Warlock of Romania, and converted many of the local warlocks and wizards to his cause, though access to the castle was barred to all save those whom Salazar had granted explicit permission, as it was both unplottable and shrouded with numerous incredibly powerful concealment charms. For even without the wand he had fashioned for himself when Hogwarts was founded, Salazar was an incredibly powerful sorcerer, and he was capable of intensely powerful wandless magic, as Godric had prophesised, and these wards surrounding the Transylvanian castle were so powerful that not even his once-friends could spy him out when he was residing there.

A woman, Celestina, went with Salazar into exile. Tall, slender and pale, her thin face was framed by long, black hair and set with black, gleaming eyes. She wore black, close-fitting robes, which glistened in the light of day, and trailed to the floor. A proud woman, Celestina soon became respected and idolised by many in the village, and her power was akin in strength to Salazar’s own, though she relied more heavily on her wand than he ever had.

 

While in exile, Celestina bore Salazar but one child, Alucard, before her death at the hands of a wild manticore, which savaged the village and broke apart many families, both wizarding and muggle. Following Celestina’s death, Salazar became cruel and merciless, striking down any who opposed him, and Alucard was no exception, often being beaten for insubordination. In essence, Alucard was as alike to his father as it was possible to be, in both appearance and morals, but there were certain dissimilarities that caused tension between the two.

Alucard, for instance, was less fanatical about pureblood supremacy than his father. While the boy was in no doubt favourable of a pureblood-run system, he felt that mixed-blood wizards had their place in society, and should be afforded some protections from the laws Salazar enforced, if not all the protections afforded to purebloods themselves. Of muggleborns, Alucard was alike to his father in mind, and would not tolerate them near him, or permit them to lay eyes upon him, and this increased the boy’s favour with his father.

When Alucard came of age, his father granted to him a locket, bearing the insignia of his father in the form of an emerald-encrusted serpent, as well as leave to do as he wished, so long as he continued the already long-lived Slytherin name.

But Alucard stayed with his father for many years, deep into his adulthood, until a famine struck the village in the midst of High Summer, and in a confrontation between his father and one of the village warlocks, his father was fatally wounded and lay on the edge of consciousness for many weeks. The warlock was not so lucky, as Salazar’s power thrust the man against the castle wall when he was attacked, and appeared to act without conscious guidance from the man himself, as it disembowelled and decapitated the assailant. Salazar was a powerful wizard, but the wound that the warlock had dealt him had severed two of his fingers from his right hand, and an infection the like that none had seen before had crept up the aging man’s arm, blackening it and turning the tissue spongy to the touch.

It was at this time that Alucard fled from Romania and, within four days swift ride, came but sixty leagues west of the country, not a fraction of the journey he intended. He considered his options for a while, before giving up all pretence and acknowledging that there was only one course of action possible now. Saddling his steed in a Hungarian village as the church bells struck the Morning Service and Alucard judged it to be nearing ten of the morn’, he drew his wand and used it to carve a series of runes in a circle around him. Stepping into the centre of the rune circle, he closed his eyes and concentrated with all his might on the castle his father had described to him many times as a boy, though embittered as he was towards the place.

The runes shone with a silver light and a bright light took him, with a thunderous crack. The villagers of the Hungarian town stared in shock and amazement, for where the young prince had been, there now was left only a charred circle in the ground.

 

Almost instantaneously, as though pulled through an impossibly tight, constricting tunnel, Alucard appeared breathless and kneeling in the outskirts of the Scottish countryside. Around him, the ground had scorched and withered, but he took no notice as he raised his head and saw the infamous castle his father had spoken to him about. It was a thousand times grander than he had ever described, and it seemed busy with a life of its own.

Alucard stood, shakily as he stared around him, hardly daring to believe he had actually succeeded in transporting himself. He had attempted before, with great success, but never over so many hundreds of leagues, or across a body of water, and never with so much riding on his success.

He smoothed his robes, and waved his wand over them to clear off the marks the earth had made on them, and then began his long walk up to the castle gates.

When he reached them, he found himself greeted by three aging professors of the school. Alucard could feel the power emanating from them, a power he had occasionally felt around his father, and eyed them warily.

“May I assume that I am addressing the Lord Gryffindor, and the Ladies Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff? I am on an errand of urgency, and I must be swift.”

The three stood immovable, but seemed to share an internal conflict, before one of the women, robed in a dark blue material, stepped forward. Her head was no longer crowned with the legendary tiara of her household, and her face seemed lined with premature old-age, her eyes dimmer than they had been in her youth. Some great tragedy had befallen Rowena Ravenclaw, and none but she was privy to the knowledge of what this tragedy was.

 

She spoke, and her voice, it seemed, was unchanged by the years. Her speech was cold, clipped and thoughtful.

“You may assume so, Master Slytherin. We have anticipated your arrival for some years, though we must admit, you have arrived sooner than we suspected. Swear to us, here and now, that you have not led your father back to these shores. Speak swiftly, _boy_ , and do not try our patience. Your kin have been hidden from us by powers we have not encountered before for many years, and we do not look on the kin of our betrayer kindly. Your father was under strict orders to never come to these isles again, and he was aware that we had ordered a watch on him. If you have led him back to these shores, your life is forfeit.”

Alucard stared with a cold anger at the woman before him, aged and powerful though she may be. He had not been referred to as “boy” since his youth, and he did not take kindly to the phrase.

“I swear to you, _My Lady_ , that Salazar has not ventured to these isles since his exile here many years ago, though it is concerning him that I have come. You speak to me of a conflict that is no concern of mine at this hour, and the oaths and rules you set upon my father have nothing to do with me, nor am I bound by their restrictions. But nay, my father is not walking abroad in the Realm of England, nor that of Alba or the Irish Isles. Indeed, my father walks no more. He is bound to his bedchamber, in a castle in the Romanian village of Transylvania…”

 

The man stood behind Ravenclaw stirred and spoke sharply at this. “There is no castle in Transylvania. If such a thing existed, we would have been informed swiftly by our errand-masters. Do not lie to us, boy, for we are not fools.”

Alucard stared into the cold eyes of Godric Gryffindor and was unable to bite back a retort.

“Do you not listen even to your own colleague, _Lord_ Gryffindor? The Lady Ravenclaw has already stated, quite implicitly, that you have been unable to track us for many years. Our castle is protected in many ways, and not just from muggle eyes. Our castle is protected with many of the same enchantments and protections that surround the castle of Hogwarts, and these protections have been bolstered by runic wards, the knowledge of which has been passed through the Slytherin house for many generations. Only those with strict permission from either my father or, in his declining health, myself are able to look upon the castle. Your _spies_ never stood a chance. But the hiding of my family is not the matter I came to discuss with you. I have come before you my Lord and Ladies to beg you to return with me to my father’s castle. My father is grievously ill, and within a week he will die, if he cannot be healed… and I doubt now that he can, for his infection has surpassed even his powers of magic. I ask only that if you will consent to return with me, you attempt to cure my father, and if that is impossible, to see him one last time before his death. Though many things transpired between my father and the three of you, you were close friends once, and I am certain he does not forget this.” At this, Alucard knelt, and presented his wand to the three figures. “Please, all I ask is that you try to aid us. My father is all I have, and he needs me yet.”

 

Godric scowled at the figure before him, and was about to dismiss him with an offhand remark and well-placed jinx when a hand rested on his shoulder. He looked to his side and saw Helga shaking her head, as if she had known exactly what went through his mind.

“Not now, Godric. From what this young man tells us, Salazar is nearing death, with or without our aid. The last thing this man needs now is for you to insult his father on counts that his son knows nothing about. I propose we go with Master Slytherin, if only to grant Salazar a peace offering before he dies. I know the oaths we swore to him on the day we… parted, and I intend to fulfil those oaths, but nowhere did we say that we would never look upon one another again. Besides, this young man appears to be much more… moderate in his views than Salazar was. We hold no grudge against this man, Godric, and it is therefore imperative that you hold your tongue. Rowena, what say you?”

Rowena turned, an odd expression on her face, as if she was pained by the news of Salazar’s ill health, but it was swiftly smoothed over.

“I… I have to agree with Helga, Godric. This man, young Master Slytherin, has done us no ill. All he has done is brought us news of his father, and to ask for any aid we might be able to give. Is that a crime, Godric? I think not. We shall _all_ go with Master Slytherin. The school will be in safe hands, we can leave Professor Selvix in charge while we are gone.”

Without waiting for Godric’s response, Rowena turned towards Alucard, still knelt on the dirt pathway.

“You may stand, Master Slytherin. We will go with you to your father, but there is a matter we must take care of, first.”

She drew her wand and gave it a light flick. A silver eagle emerged from it and gazed at Rowena, who muttered a phrase of overly-complicated Greek and Latin words, seemingly simultaneously. After a few moments, she stopped and nodded at the bird, which flicked its silvery wings and flew towards the school.

“Just a message to our Deputy Headmistress, to look after the school in our absence. It is rare for the three of us to be abroad together, and there are usually at least two of us stationed at Hogwarts. However, I deem this to be a matter of importance. Come, we should go swiftly if we wish to see your father.”

 

Alucard stood, amazed at their willingness to go with him, before shaking himself to his senses and sheathing his wand.

“We shall go at once. I have devised a method of transportation much swifter than steeds, though I fear we shall have to ride for many days before we reach my father. I can at the least transport the four of us, nearly instantly, to a village in Hungary where my steed is tethered.”

Rowena nodded, impressed, and then gave a short, sharp whistle. Two horses, grey of mane and proud of stature, galloped up to the group, led by a beautifully majestic unicorn. Its horn shone like diamonds in the starlight as it approached, before it lowered its head and nuzzled at Godric’s neck.

Godric, who had not spoken since Helga had stopped his rebuttal, though he scowled slightly, silently mounted the beast, while Rowena and Helga mounted their horses.

“Will your enchantment be powerful enough to transport our steeds with us, Master Slytherin?” Rowena asked, scratching her steed’s ear affectionately. Alucard considered for a moment before nodding slowly.

“It should, I see no reason why it wouldn’t. It will take me but a few moments, but I fear we need to move beyond your ward boundaries. I do not wish to imagine what may happen to me if I attempt my runes within them, if your wards are as powerful as I guess.”

And so the four walked but four hundred yards away from the castle grounds, and Alucard felt a murmur in the air, and thought he saw the air ripple before him as he moved across the castle boundaries. He halted when they had crossed as far as the circle that he had scorched into the ground when he arrived and drew his wand. With it, he carved his runes into the ground around them, one large rune each of the cardinal points, and then many smaller runes between them. A bright light enveloped them, once more accompanied by a sharp crack, and they were gone.

 

They materialised only a few feet away from where Alucard had originally stood when he left the Hungarian village, and the scorched earth still appeared to be smoking slightly. Alucard’s horse, Hasufel, whinnied as the four appeared, and grew restless. Passers-by stared at the horse, and then at the three strangely clad people who stood before them, before turning their eyes upon Alucard. As they gazed upon him, they shirked away from the foursome, returning at once to their homes, any errands forgotten, barring their doors and slamming their shutters. For the Slytherin family was well known in the Hungarian village, Salazar having frequented the place in the first years after his exile, and had amounted a certain… reputation in the village.

Alucard stepped up to the horse and stroked its mane, whispering softly into the beast’s ear. Hasufel stirred and whinnied once more and then was still and silent, as though eased by some secret magic. Alucard mounted the beast and turned him towards the three Hogwarts founders.

“I thank you for journeying even this far with me. But as I should have said sooner, even riding with haste and at full gallop, with no respite, we cannot expect to reach my father’s castle for two turns of the sun. We might bolster our speed with magic, but even then we are pushing for at least one turn of the moon.”

Godric stirred, irritated by the boys lapse of memory earlier in the day, and only barely bit back a retort due to Helga’s ever-observant eyes and ears. Helga frowned at Gryffindor before turning to Alucard.

“There is little we can do about that, Master Slytherin. And I think galloping without rest might stress even Artemis, Godric’s steed that is, to an untimely end.” She smiled slightly as she turned affectionate eyes on the unicorn. “I suggest we make a full day’s ride of it, and then rest where the night takes us. Two days of this will take us the majority of the way, if I figure rightly from your descriptions of the distance Master Slytherin, and we should reach your father’s castle on the third day.”

Alucard thought for a moment and then nodded.  
“Your mathematical skill is superb, My Lady. If we follow your plan, I estimate we should arrive at the castle around High Noon on our third day. Is this acceptable, Lady Ravenclaw, Lord Gryffindor?”

Gryffindor gave a begrudging nod, keeping his eyes sharp and narrowed on the boy, while Ravenclaw considered a moment.

“If, Helga, that is your council, then I should think it best to take it. While we might, as Master Slytherin suggested, improve our speed with magic, this would not be in our steeds’ best interest, and would instead work as a detriment to their health.” She smiled thinly and turned towards Alucard, “What we need, Master Slytherin, is an adaptation of your transportation runes. If the time is allowed us, I would very much like to talk with you about this. Tonight, before our first rest, perhaps? I feel that, with enough determination, we might be able to devise a swift means of transportation without resorting to the uncomfortabilities afforded us by _broomsticks_.”

Alucard blinked and straightened himself on Hasufel.

“With Your Lady’s leave, I feel that would be most beneficial, not just to us, but to the wizarding world as a whole. Without meaning to cause offence, might I suggest that, if such a spell is possible, it be taught to your students? I do not, by any means, wish to impose on your standards of teaching, but if Your Ladyship thinks it a worthwhile endeavour, I feel it would be most beneficial to your students, particularly as they graduate from your school.”

Rowena smiled more warmly now, finding a kindred spirit in the young man. He appeared feisty at first glance, yes, but there was a drive for knowledge buried within, and Rowena respected that.

“Your suggestion is most welcome, Master Slytherin, and most definitely worth our consideration. Now, shall we?”

As if answering her own question, Rowena leaned down and whispered into her steed’s ear again. The beast appeared to nod, and then began a slow trot. Helga and Gryffindor followed suit, and the three were pacing a soft canter before Alucard shook himself from a reverie and spurred his horse forwards.

“From the village border, we head East and a little South across many rocky plains. The journey in full is perhaps sixty leagues, so we should aim to have travelled perhaps twenty leagues this day. I understand this is a large distance to cover, but our need is urgent, and our ride _must_ be in haste. We shall make camp at sundown.”

With no more words spoken between them, the four urged their steeds to a swift gallop as they left the village borders.

As High Noon came and went, the riders had made but five leagues from the village in two hours. This was reasonable speed, but with sundown in six hours, they would need to equal this pace to make the remaining fifteen leagues distance they intended to cover that day. Alucard’s brow was glistening in the summer heat, and he took a deep draught from his water-skin, before stowing it and spurring his horse onwards.

The day passed with little event, though occasionally they could hear the baying of wolf packs or the slight grunt of a nearby bear. This bothered them little, though, as such animals were wont to flee before the wrath of such powerful beings of magic, and their passage through the country was unimpeded.

As sundown approached, the four crossed a stream and judged that the time had come to rest for the night and to continue in the morn’. They had travelled some eighteen leagues over the course of the day, and seemed in high spirits about making the castle of Salazar Slytherin in good time on the third gallop.

 

As the sun passed below the horizon, and a golden hue tinted the air, Alucard sat down with Rowena and the two spoke quietly. Alucard, who took parchment and quill with him everywhere when on errand-journeys, took a leaf now from his satchel and began creating intricate diagrams on the page.

“May I assume, Lady Ravenclaw, that you are learned in Runic magics?”

Rowena smiled and nodded her ascent, taking the parchment from Alucard and scanning it swiftly.

“Then you will notice that these runes are used most often in the subject of charms and alchemy. See here, at the north of any transportation circle, the rune for “Alchemical processes” is inscribed, to allow the magic to flow through the bodily processes involving chemicals and such things. To the east of each circle is drawn the rune for “Determination”, a key cornerstone in the transportation process, for a person must be driven by great need to use such circles. To the south of each circle is drawn the rune for “Deliberation”, also a key magical influence in the transportation process, for the action of instant magical transportation is a very precise, well-calculated move. And to the west of the circle is drawn the rune translated as meaning “Destination”, but not the rune for the destination itself. Destination, Determination and Deliberation. These are, in my opinion, the most important criteria for instant magical transportation, and these spells cannot be complete without them. Between the key runes are smaller runes used to determine the direction of the circle, and where the eventual destination will be. As no location has a singular rune to describe it, it is imperative that each of these smaller runes is absolutely correct, as even a small flick in the wrong direction can have disastrous results. For instance, I once copied a rune down in symmetry to how it should be drawn, and I found myself in the neighbouring village, but without my left arm. And it isn’t a clean cut, with fresh skin, as some might believe. It creates a gaping, bloody wound where the limb was, and the tattered remnants of flesh are visible. I was incredibly lucky that the village was but a quarter league from the castle, and this was a distance I could ride easily, having managed to borrow a steed from the local barman, or I might have lost not just the use of the arm, but also my life. I was able, just in time I figure, to return to the village where my arm was lying limp and useless in a pool of blood, which was creeping into the scorched earth that results from these circles, and perform a complicated spell to reattach my arm to my body. Not pleasant, and incredibly painful, I might say. I have referred to this process of bodily-separation as “splinching” in the notes I have written regarding the transportation process. So, do you believe this can be adapted into a single incantation?”

Rowena, who had remained silent during Alucard’s explanation, seemed to nod slowly, as if weighing many arguments in her head at once.

“I believe… Yes, I think it will be possible to adapt this method. It will not be easy, and it could be dangerous, especially as any person attempting this would not have the safety that the runes present. They would, I mean, be entirely subject to the possibility of “splinching”, as you call it, which sounds as though the body is torn in two directions at once, as opposed to the singular direction that the subject requires. But perhaps… yes, I think so. If a person were to focus, before attempting this method, on your “Destination, Determination, Deliberation” cornerstones, we might make progress. Your cornerstone of “Alchemical processes” will not be necessary in this adaptation, as that is simply a method of counteracting the limitations of the rune circle. As humans are already imbibed of the chemical processes and abnormalities, it will not be necessary to increase the potency of them. She flicked her hand and a quill and parchment materialised. She began making brief notes, some in English, but the vast majority in Latin. She made a replica of the rune circle on Alucard’s parchment, and then scratched an arrow circling it clockwise. She then scratched the words “Destination, determination, deliberation” above the circle and nodded, seemingly absentmindedly. Above this, she scratched “The Three D’s.”

Suddenly, she stood and drew her wand. She smiled thinly down at Alucard, and warned him not to interfere with what she was about to attempt.

“Master Slytherin, what I am about to attempt is inherently dangerous, and it is only because of my vast magical powers that I am considering such an attempt so soon. I am not usually so… hasty, but I feel that if this is not achieved now, I will lose sight of how to accomplish it. I do not advise that you attempt your… apparition… yes, that is a nice name for it. As I was saying, I would not advise that you attempt your apparition enchantments without the rune circles for quite some time, as, forgive me, you do not have the magical prowess necessary. What I am about to attempt is to rip a hole in the fabric of reality itself, by bending the laws of magic to my need. I was well trained in this, in my youth, and if I am successful it may lead to incredible advances in your method.”

She raised her wand, closed her eyes and made numerous flicks in the air. As the wand passed, the air it travelled through seemed to ripple and distort, if only for a second. Then, Ravenclaw raised her head, opened her eyes and nodded at Alucard. She dug a heel into the ground and twisted on the spot. With an ear-splitting crack, Ravenclaw was gone, and Alucard sprang to his feet. He wasn’t the only one, as Gryffindor and Hufflepuff both started and rose, pulling their wands. They hadn’t been paying attention to the two as they discussed Alucard’s method, instead having set up a small fire near the horses and taken to discussing Hogwarts business.

 

As Alucard inspected the ground from which Ravenclaw had disappeared, which seemed free of any scorching, he felt a wand press into the small of his neck.

“Stand, cur. Stand and turn your treacherous eyes upon me.”  
As Alucard picked himself up from the floor, he prepared himself for the eyes of fury that were Gryffindor.

“You know, my _Lord_ , you will get more favourable responses if you abstain from raised wands and insults.” Alucard turned, and was rewarded for his remark with a line of fire from Gryffindor’s wand, and a sharp knife-like pain across his cheek. He felt the skin and muscle part where the curse had whipped him, and he could feel the blood start to flow, fast and free. He gasped and cried out, reaching for his own wand, which he hastily swept across his face. The bleeding stopped and the skin reknitted itself, but a deep, dark scar could ever-after be seen upon Alucard’s cheek.

With a slash, he sent his own jinx back at Gryffindor, who deflected it negligently and scowled.

“So, the epitome of bravery and courage, aren’t you _Gryffindor_? To attack when an opponent has his back turned, with no just cause? I see now why my father _despises_ you.” He spat at Gryffindor’s feet. “Always, despite never having known you in person, I defended your honour against my father, and I was repaid kindly, just as you repaid me now. Always, I swore that the Lord Gryffindor acted out of his own morals and conscience, not out of some animalistic urge to fight. I understand now that I was a fool. I call for judgment against you Gryffindor, to whom I have done no wrong, and I demand reasoning behind your assault. I invoke the Ritual of the Fey, created by the Lady Morgana herself. Speak or _die_ , Gryffindor, and speak truthfully, for the ritual will make you _plead_ for death should you lie.”

 

Helga sighed, wearily, and pulled Godric to one side.

“You are a _fool_ , Godric. This man has done us no wrong whatsoever, what evidence have you that he is at fault for Rowena’s disappearance? Do you think, in all your wisdom, that Master Slytherin, who though of Lordly blood is not Lordly himself, could take on Rowena and _win_. You have seen this ritual once before, as have I, and you know that ancient magic is at work here. You know what happens if you answer any of the questions dishonestly.”

A ripple seemed to grow and distort the air as Godric turned, seething, towards the boy in front of him.

“Speak, _boy_. You have three questions; use them wisely or not at all.”

Alucard raised his wand and a tongue of flame shot out, curling around Godric’s throat. It was not warm, but instead icy cold, and it seemed to chill Godric’s soul. As was the magic of the Fey Witch of old.

“First, you will answer me, in full, your reasons for your unlawful assault on my being.”

Gryffindor raised his eyes, but stopped his retort when he remembered Helga’s words. As the logical portion of his mind took control once more, he understood that Rowena would easily have overpowered the boy, had he attacked, and that he now had to make full admittance of his mistake or lose his powers to the judgment of the Fey Witch.

“My… assault on your _being_ was based on a rash, hasty, thought process following the Lady Ravenclaw’s disappearance. I was mistaken, for you are a _weakling_ child who could stand not against such a Lady as she.”

A second tongue of flame, purple in colour, sprang from Alucard’s wand and wrapped around Godric’s wrists.

“Your reasoning is illogical and based on hasty decisions, unbecoming of your household, Gryffindor. Do you, in full acknowledgement of your mistake and irrational, unjust assault, offer up a full, magically binding, apology?”

Gryffindor’s eyes widened. What the boy was asking was madness. In exchange for a lawful, magically binding, apology, Godric must forfeit a small portion of his magic to Alucard as penance. But Godric noted that this, which was usually the final question in the ritual, was being used early, which suggested to him that Alucard would not accept just this as apology. But the Ritual of the Fey would extract much more than what was required, should he refuse the request, and so he summoned up his knowledge of the ritual and spoke, sharply.

“And how would you have this penance delivered, Slytherin?”

A spike of ice shot through his wrists, and he grimaced. It was the part of the interrogator to ask the questions, and any asked by the accused would warrant further “disciplines”.

Alucard raised an eyebrow. “I do not want to be contaminated by your magic, Gryffindor, so I will require of you to syphon a portion equal to one-hundredth of your total magical abilities into the earth, there to be used to mark this place for all time, and to never bring ruin upon it.”

 

Gryffindor scowled, and closed his eyes. This was madness, and a complete mockery of his station. To waste any of his magic was torturous for him, but do it he must, for he had committed an unjust act upon an innocent man, and the ancient rituals required penance. Godric opened a barrier in his mind that was rarely accessed, and from it he dove deep into his subconscious, seeking his magical core, the store of all his power. When he hit it, he drew from it a single strand of power, worth little in the grand scheme of things, but to him was every bit as part of him as his eyes or ears. Shuddering, he tugged the strand free, and opened his eyes. In his hands was a pulsing light, transitioning between gold and scarlet, and he slowly forced his hands away from him, driving the magic out from his body and into the earth, which seemed to shimmer for a moment.

Gazing at Alucard with hatred in his eyes, he was infuriated to see a smirk playing on the boy’s lips. But he wasn’t finished yet, as he spied the wand of his persecutor being raised once more. But he faltered as another sharp crack split the air, and Ravenclaw appeared behind Gryffindor, slightly amused at herself.

“Well, that went well. My apologies, I ended up rather further away than inte… what, may I ask, is going on? Slytherin, release the Lord Gryffindor this _instant_.”

Alucard turned to her, and frowned. “My Lady Ravenclaw, I am afraid that is impossible. I have invoked the Ritual of the Fey, in order that the _Lord_ Gryffindor may answer for his crimes. Following your disappearance, the Lord Gryffindor took it upon himself to assault me as cause for your disappearance. Note, my Lady, the fresh scar you see upon my cheek, where your dear friend sliced into me. The Lord Gryffindor is bound thus to answer the last of my questions which, you will be pleased to hear I’m sure, you have aided me in.”

He turned back to Gryffindor and flicked his wand. A silver tongue of flame shot from the tip and bound the man’s ankles.

“Finally, Gryffindor, will you, having been assured of my absolute innocence, thanks to the reappearance of the Lady Ravenclaw and therefore the nullification of any possible wrongdoing that I could have perpetrated, agree to forget this matter? To lay it to rest here, where we stand, and henceforth it shall not be discussed between any of us, regardless of reason, and not a word shall be spoken to my father concerning the issue. Do you agree?”

 

Gryffindor stirred and his hatred faltered. He had expected much worse than this, and, he felt, deserved worse. Perhaps the son was not as akin to the father as he might have supposed, but nevertheless, Godric would keep a vigilant eye on the boy.

“I agree, Master Slytherin. The matter shall be rested, unless need for its remembrance is urgent and unavoidable by any and all means.”

The bonds on Gryffindor’s throat, wrists and ankles constricted momentarily, before dissipating. The tension of ancient magic in the air faded and the night breeze resumed its flow.

Without another word, the four drew their wands and prepared themselves a tent each, though sparse and uncomfortable for the most part, they each had a hay sleeping quarter, at the very least.

 

The night passed with no further happenings, and the four woke the next morning before the break of dawn, and mounted their steeds. They crossed three leagues before the sun rose, and their hopes were high for the day’s ride. Copses of trees were starting to appear every so often, first along the far horizon, but slowly getting closer to where the riders galloped. But with the copses of trees came more sounds of wolves howling, and they were louder now, and the riders were unable to shake the feeling of being pursued.

As the sun hit High Noon, the riders rested for a time, having covered thirteen leagues thus far that day. They rested until the sun sank to Low Noon, or that which is known as One of the Hour, but their lengthy midday rest almost proved their undoing, for the wolves that had indeed been pursuing them managed to catch up the distance, and were within sight of the riders, who were caught off-guard.

These wolves are unlike any alive in the world today. They were large, wild beasts, perhaps as large as a small horse, and could take down a full-grown horse in a single leap. Their breath was foul, and their howls were as rallying calls, summoning more of the Dire Wolves to them. They were fearsome to behold, and one wolf could, ordinarily, take on three or four humans at any one time, but the beings this pack were faced with were not ordinary humans, and were powerful and dangerous in their wrath. But for all their power, they have not the strength to take on the pack of ten that attacked them without injury, especially caught unawares.

 

By the time the riders were aware they were being attacked, the leader of the pack had already made a leap at Rowena. It managed to sink its claws into her breast, but was then thrown backwards and torn in two, as Rowena’s power manifested in her defence. Before the wolf hit the ground, the flesh had been stripped and burned from its body, and all that remained was a handful of bones, blackened as with great heat. As the wolf perished, Rowena staggered and held her breast as the blood seeped through, but there was some poison in the claws of the wolves that worked quickly, weakening the foes and draining them of life swiftly.

At the demise of their captain, the wolves rallied in anger and assaulted the three others at once, which proved their downfall, for Godric and Helga rose in wrath, with Alucard by their side. Alucard drew two of the remaining wolves to him, and swiftly despatched one with an entrail-expelling curse. The stomach of the wolf exploded and its intestines were thrown outwards. The wolf seemed to scream in pain before collapsing in a pool of its own blood. As this happened, Alucard turned to the other but had to dive to the ground as the wolf leapt at him. He pointed his wand at the beast and shouted “Confringo!” The spell shone with a purple light as it raced towards its target, and connected with the beast’s skull, which exploded in a spray of blood, skull and brains.

During this confrontation, Godric had taken four of the wolves to himself, and had despatched two with well-placed severing charms, which left the wolves heads rolling across the ground as the bodies slumped and fell into the ground. The remaining wolves sprang back before charging at Godric, who deployed his most powerful wandless magic, projecting an electrical barricade towards the charging beasts. As the wolves came into contact with the barrier, the parts of their bodies that made contact ceased to exist, and they were racing too fast to stop themselves from being reduced to a pile of ash on the floor.

Godric staggered himself following this confrontation, as the magic it takes to summon such a spell is immense, and so he didn’t see the wolf prowling up from behind.

But Helga saw it, and casting a bedazzling hex on the two she had taken to fight, she raised a stern hand and the wolf’s neck snapped, twisting upon itself and compressing. The wolf slumped, inches from Godric, and Helga turned back towards her two wolves.

“Cogo!” Her spell shot through the air and struck the wolf in front, which was just starting to recover from her previous hex, and its paws flattened, its legs breaking as they were drawn inwards towards the torso. Its head followed, rolling downwards and crushing the life out of the wolf, as the torso itself compressed itself inwards, shattering its ribcage and decimating the internal organs. Helga grimaced, for she loved all creatures equally, but these wolves were dangerous and must be destroyed, lest they destroy countless lives.

She turned her wrath upon the final wolf, who attempted to turn tail and flee, but Helga caught it in a tripping hex and it went sprawling to the floor. As she advanced on the beast, she raised her wand and flicked it once. The death was merciful, for as the spell took effect, the beast was struck dead, and was left on the ground.

 

Turning, Helga examined the battlefield. Godric was still gasping on the floor, trying to recover from his magical exhaustion, and Alucard was staggering through the corpses of the wolves, but both seemed unharmed. It was to Rowena that Helga’s eyes fell last, and all wrath was forgotten as she saw her friend, kneeling and gasping for breath, clutching at a wound in her breast. Racing towards her, Helga took her hand and examined the wound. It was shallow, but already dark green lines were starting to seep from it, racing along her veins towards her heart. Helga knelt down and whispered into Rowena’s ear.

“Rowena, Rowena listen to me. Steady your breathing, you are only hastening the infection. This is not fatal, not yet, but you must calm your body. Lay back, and rest your head on the ground for a moment.”

She helped Rowena to shift onto her back, and then called for the others.

“Godric, Master Slytherin, time is pressing. There may be other wolves on the way, and we must tend to Rowena and flee this place before they find it. I need Kingsmead, Archweed and Athelas. They are herbs, and they grow plentiful in these parts, I believe. They are healing plants, and I use them often in my herbological seminars. Athelas is a green plant, with pale blue flowers when in bloom. Kingsmead is a darker plant, with leaves akin to that of the oak trees of Hogwarts, and Archweed grows in clumps of spiked leaves. Careful, for they are thistled, and must be handled carefully. Godric, can you collect a handful of each, if you can find them? Master Slytherin, in my satchel, which is slung across Anarian, my horse, is a small water-cauldron. I need you to fill it and bring it to the boil, as swift as may be.”

As the two went about their tasks, not complaining, Helga stooped over Rowena and laid her hands on the wound, gently.

“Ferunda ley Parsonon descampt, Erua.”

It was a strange tongue that Helga spoke, one passed down through her own family, and unknown to most mortal ears. But the lines of infection seemed to, at the least, slow their course, and Helga turned as Alucard returned. He had brought the cauldron, full two-thirds of the way, and placed it close to Helga, before muttering an enchantment and pointing his wand at the cauldron’s base. It began to glow red, and the water quickly heated through, swiftly coming to the boil.

 

Godric returned within five minutes, with a clump of each of the weeds in his outstretched hands.

“Helga, I found what you described. Fortune may indeed smile upon us yet today, for they grow plentiful around our camp. Bless the Healer’s Moon, that we ride under her stern gaze, though veiled by day it may be.”

Helga paid little heed to this, but took the weeds from Godric’s hands and laid them at her feet. She took up the athelas plant first and crushed it, sprinkling it into the boiled water. As the crushed leaves hit the water, a powerful, fragrant smell filled the air, and Rowena appeared to breathe a little lighter.

“That will help in the short term, at least with any pain she may be enduring. It will also, I hope, begin the assault on the infection.” Helga seemed to speak more to herself than the others as she picked up the Kingsmead leaf and dipped it in the water, before pulling it out and resting it across Rowena’s forehead. The water did not seem to drip down Rowena’s face, as would be expected, but seemed to be absorbed straight through the skin. Helga nodded, slowly.  
“Good, good. The plant is still effective then, even in these parts. That is heart-warming news. Hopefully, that will assist in fighting the infection back, at least for a short while, which is all I need.”

She then picked up the Archweed and dipped that into the water also, before rolling it and pressing it against the wound. Rowena gasped and her eyes flew open in pain at this, but Helga spoke softly to her, soothing her. She then placed her hands over the wound once more and began murmuring in that old, ancient tongue again.

“Aristrané dey erua Pasturad den Comptrad. Et Ube Cafrust, Herain.”

She pressed down with her magic, and the infection appeared to be drawn out of the wound in a glistening, emerald string. As it did, Rowena cried out in pain, but as the string finally left her body, she slumped back, panting slightly but no longer troubled by the infection. Helga flicked her wand and the infection dissipated into nothingness, before turning back to Rowena and raking her wand across the still-open wound. The wound closed itself almost effortlessly, leaving but a white mark where it had been, and Helga sighed with relief.

“She will live. What is more, if we allow but ten minutes respite more, thanks to the fragrance of the athelas plant, Rowena will be able without impediment. It is much better than we could have hoped for, for the poison in that wound was of evil creation, designed but for one purpose: a slow, painful death. But we can rest easy, now. Once Rowena is able to stand, and mount, we must leave this place as swiftly as possible, but while we wait, there is one thing that needs attending to. Godric, if you will?”

 

Godric nodded and drew his wand. With a short flick, the remains of the battle, the corpses of the dead wolves and the remnants of those that perished more fully were summoned into a stacked pile. With another flick, the pile of corpses burst into flames, and Godric looked on sternly.

“So passes the evil from this pack, let it make no more malice in these parts.” Godric almost whispered these words, before turning away from the pyre and back towards the others.

As the acrid smoke filled the air, Rowena pushed herself to her feet, still pale in the face.

“Rowena, sit. It’s too soon for you to be walking, give yourself time.”

Helga’s plea went unnoticed as Rowena flicked back her hair and strode, albeit less swiftly than she would normally, towards her horse, which had strayed but a little during the battle.

Turning her head, she spoke simply.

“If we tarry here any longer, we will not survive another wolf attack. That pyre is as good as a signal of victory goes, and I fear that more of those beasts will be mustering as we speak. We must ride at once; we do not wait for any injury.”

Helga glanced at Godric, who shrugged and nodded his ascent. There was no denying what Rowena said, and there was no point trying to argue her into resting for even a few minutes.

They spelled their tents away and removed all traces of their campfire, as much good as that would do them with a mound of burning flesh five feet from it. Nevertheless, they attempted to clear any signs of the way they had come, and to magically resist any signs of their going.

 

As the four sped off, they heard a cry of wolves in the air behind them, some ten leagues off, and they turned, halting for just a moment. A ripple seemed to go through the air, as a wave of heat distorts the surroundings, as the Godric, Helga and Rowena exerted their power forwards towards the horizon. The howling stopped after a few moments and the riders turned and spurred their horses into a gallop.

“That will not stop them; it will merely hinder their progress for a time. At best we can expect them to close in on us during our rest tonight, and that is if we ride with all haste. I suggest we take but a four hour rest tonight, with each of us taking up a one hour guard. We can rest more fully, perhaps, when we reach the castle, but for now we must make haste.”

Godric spoke these words quietly enough, but to Alucard it was as though Godric spoke directly into his ear. He nodded and called back his assent, but said no more as Helga and Rowena cried their approval.

The four continued in silence for a while, and over the course of the next nine hours transition between canter and full gallop, must have covered twenty more leagues, bringing their total for the day to thirty-three leagues, an incredible feat that they would not have managed save for the wolf attack. This left the village of Transylvania and the castle where Salazar was deteriorating but nine leagues hence, and they would arrive at the castle shortly after Eight of the Hour, allowing for short respites during the day’s ride and a slightly slower pace, for the horses, though of noble blood and of great stature, were becoming weary and would not sustain even a consistent canter the next day.

Godric took the first watch, while the others rested and eventually fell into sleep. Though nothing happened, occasionally the sound of wolf howls could be heard, carried by the wind out of the west. Godric supposed the remnants of the original pack must have found the pyre by now, and had set to sniffing out their trail.

After an hour was done, he woke Helga to continue the watch, and settled into sleep.

Helga spent the hour scouring the surrounding areas, always keeping within sight of the camp, for any medicinal herbs that may help ease Salazar’s passing the next day, if it came to that. But also in her mind was the memory of the fight earlier that day. She did not wish to be so unprepared again, and every herb collected was a few minutes saved in healing a fallen companion.

She returned to the camp with ten minutes of her watch still remaining and stoked the fire, before collecting the herbs she had gathered and stowing them in her satchel.

She shook Rowena awake as she went to her bed, and fell quickly to sleep when she lay her head down.

Rowena drew her wand and cleared a small patch of earth to sit on, before sweeping her wand over the ground in front of her, clearing it of any weeds. She summoned a branch from one of the nearby trees and sharpened it to a fine point, easy enough to write with.

She started scratching small shapes in the earth, in the same pattern as the rune circle Alucard had devised. There _had_ to be a way to make this accessible to anyone below her power level, and without the hassle of the runes. It wouldn’t be possible in any case unless the person had a wand, or at the very least a focal point of some description, so all she had to do was to ingrain the knowledge into her pupil’s heads. But even then, Rowena herself had only managed the spell because of her superior magical prowess, and was not keen to teach students how to cause a tear in the fabric of space.

Rowena struck upon the idea that if the person attempting the spell could tap into their magical core, as Godric had done earlier that day as penance, then perhaps they would be able to drive enough magical force through themselves to manage the apparition. And as the act of tapping into their core would not be an act of penance, the magic they use would sink back into the core following the apparition, rather than being spent utterly.

Making a note to talk to Alucard about this thought during the next ride, she brushed her writings on the earth away and glanced up at the night sky. The stars were bright, but there was something peculiar in the way they glinted, and one shone more radiantly than the others in a cold, red light.

_“Mars is bright tonight…”_ Rowena thought to herself, and became troubled. Perhaps Salazar would not survive the next night, in which case it was imperative that they reach the castle the next day, as soon as may be.

She woke Alucard for the final shift and then rested for the final hour.

 

Alucard sat, troubled in thought and mind. His father could not survive but a few days more, it was true, but even on his deathbed Salazar was a stubborn man, and it was impossible to gauge his reactions when his three former-friends arrived at his door. Alucard tried to shake the thoughts, but stayed musing over them for the hour. As the hour drew close, with no sign of daylight for at least another three hours yet, Alucard stood and woke the three others.

“It is time, we should eat a small portion before we set off, but we must ride ere the dawn breaks, lest the wolves find us.”

The three ate a morsel of food in silence before mounting their horses and riding away. As Godric had predicted, the horses were too worn down to attempt anything more pressing than a swift trot, and so it took many hours to make headway. In all the time spent that day, they were forever heedful of the wolf pack that could be pursuing them, though they could not be certain how distant they were, or if they were even following any longer.

All tales told, it was some eight hours that it took for the party to travel the remaining distance to the village, whereupon they stayed their horses and gazed upon the castle of Salazar Slytherin.

Alucard turned to his three companions and spoke.

“Before we make our way to the castle of my father, I would like to offer my most sincere thanks for your companionship on this journey. I only ask now that you leave old grudges at the wayside when you enter the castle, for my father is in severely poor health, and he should not be riled. Allow him to make the first move, should it be one of hostility then you have my leave to retort as you will, save for physical assault. I doubt now that he will survive the day, and I would have as much time as is left to him as may be possible. Thank you.”

Rowena smiled and nodded. “Let none say that those of the House of Slytherin are discourteous. I, at the least, shall abide by your wishes.”  
Helga nodded her agreement and, after a brief moment of internal struggle, so did Godric.

 

Alucard led them up the winding path through the village to the castle and dismounted at the front gate.

“Please dismount here, no steeds of any kind are permitted inside the walls of this castle. That includes your unicorn, My Lord Gryffindor. They will be well stabled, and shall be looked after be the best stable-hands of the Romanian country. They will be tended back to riding fitness during our short stay here.”

Reluctantly, Godric dismounted his steed. Rowena and Helga followed suit, and Alucard gave a clear, shrill whistle. At once, a stable-boy, the age and height of Alucard himself, appeared from the castle stables, situated not far from the main gate, and came running to the small party.

“My… My Prince, your orders sir?”

Alucard regarded him kindly. “How many times, Arteau, have I requested you use my name, Alucard? You are as family to me, and you have always been faithful to my father’s line. But that is not the point. Please take Hasufel and the steeds of the Lord and Ladies of the British Isles to stables. Have the steeds of the Lord Gryffindor, Lady Ravenclaw and Lady Hufflepuff housed in the Noble Stable with Hasufel, as is their station. See that they are tended to, and nursed back to health, for they have ridden far and fast these past days.” He rested a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You have served me well, Arteau, and I shall not forget it, nor fail to reward your service. When the time comes for me to take my father’s place as Head of the Slytherin Line, you will be handsomely rewarded. Good day.”

The man’s eyes shone with gratitude as he walked over to Hasufel and stroked his neck. The horse stirred and started to trot in the direction of the stables. Arteau spoke a few words in the language of Romania and the steeds of Rowena, Helga and Godric whinnied and followed Hasufel.

 

Alucard watched the young man until he was out of sight, housing the steeds, and drew his wand. He tapped it three times on the main gate, which swung forward effortlessly. He called forward, in a strong, commanding voice.

“The Prince Slytherin, Commander of the Realms has returned. With him are the Lord and Ladies of the British Isles, the Lord Gryffindor, the Lady Ravenclaw and the Lady Hufflepuff. I give them leave to walk within this castle, and to visit my father, the Lord Slytherin of Romania, in peace and without arms, unless the need arises.”

A silver presence that had not been noticed previously rose into the air and faced the companions, hissing briefly before dissipating.

 

“The danger is gone, my Lords. This castle is warded in many ways that are unknown in the Western World, and had you stepped foot within without my express leave, you would have been felled where you stood, even with your lordly power.”

Godric pursed his lips but bit back any sarcasm that he might have uttered. After all, he had made a promise to leave all grudges outside the castle, and a Gryffindor never went back on their promise.

 

The three followed Alucard as he swept through the gate, which was joined to a short path leading up to the main castle. On either side of the path grew a grass such as they had seen but once before, before the founding of Hogwarts, and the founders exchanged a glance, troubled. Their anxiety was worsened when they spied two trees, growing on either side of the path, which they had believed to have perished. The one was golden in colour, with leaves so delicate that a touch could make them fall, but where they fell the most beautiful of flowers would grow, and it is said that if the leaves of these flowers are crushed and stewed, then a single drop is enough to cure a person who is an inch from death. The other was silver, with roses of dazzling white adorning its branches. Any water that fell on these roses would become filled with the light of the stars, and if captured before they fell to the earth, they would shine forevermore and were often used by learned wizards during the Elder Days, before the world was known. The wizards of old, Merlyn the Magnificent among them (who indeed had been a tutor to the Founders for his part), had brought them from the Days before Years, when the True Pure-Bloods walked the earth, and planted them in the grounds of Avalon the Great, but were believed lost for a time when Avalon fell. In time, it became evident that Merlyn had salvaged the trees and had kept them in his Tower of Sorcery in the Kingdom of Alba. It was around this tower that the Founders had formed Hogwarts, in memory of their fallen teacher, and they had moved the trees to the grounds of the school, replanting them on either side of the main gates, to mark the outermost boundaries of the school.

“Master Slytherin, halt but a moment.” Rowena’s voice was strained, and she gazed at the trees in apparent distress. “These trees, there is lore surrounding them that you are doubtless unaware of. Our old tutor, Merlyn of Old, brought them from the Old Days and they were planted at Hogwarts at its founding. They are Telperion and Laurelin, the Trees of Light, as were their names in the legends of old. They are both beautiful and terrible things, for there is a legend that follows them always. It is said that when the trees are cast down and die utterly, then darkness will fall and the Dark Being shall reign supreme. After your father’s exile from our realms the trees were gone, and we believed we had averted a grave crisis. Pray tell, if you may, how these trees came to be here?”

Alucard halted, astonished. “I would not know, as they have been in these grounds since the days before my time. You will need to consult my father, if he is willing and of health enough to answer. Is there a problem, My Lady?”

Rowena looked saddened, as though a great burden had befallen her.

“As long as the trees survive, there is the ever-present danger of evil on our borders. These trees _must_ be protected at all costs, for they must _never_ be permitted to die. It is foretold that should even one perish, the other will slowly wither and die alongside it.”

Suddenly, she recited a poem of long years ago, as though chanting a hidden secret.

 

“Long shall they stand in hearth and home,

And in their days all light shall spring.

For in them shines the light of stars

And joy and gladness shall they bring.

 

For Telperion the sweet and fair,

With silver running through his veins

Shall join Laurelin on Ezellohar,

And her golden light shall bring the reign

Of great despair and gross remorse.

 

For in their falling, day shall fade

And darkness falls across the earth

And the Dark Being’s reign will aid

The downfall of this world.”

 

Rowena stopped, and sighed inwardly, but Alucard stirred restlessly.

“You mentioned a place called Ezellohar in that… that chant. Pray tell, what is Ezellohar believed to be?”

Rowena glanced at him, eyes keen and calculating once more.

“It is believed that Ezellohar referred to a hillock, or small mound, whereupon the two trees would grow. Why do you ask?”

Alucard considered for a moment then turned fully towards her.  
“Because the name of this path, and the grass you see to either side of us and on which the trees, Telperion and Laurelin you call them, grow was named by my father “Ezellohar”, though whenever I question him as to why, he answers that he doesn’t know, and that the name came to him in a vision, or possibly a dream, many years ago. I can’t help but feel that this is significant in a way, My Lady, that the trees you speak of should turn up on the land my father christened thus. Do you know whether my father ever heard the rhyme you just recalled?”

Rowena shook her head, lips thin. “The rhyme is a Ravenclaw legend, passed down for centuries through my family. There is more to it, though it concerns the earliest beginnings of this world, and speaks not more of the trees. I had never spoken it aloud before the trees passed on from the Hogwarts grounds, and so when I did, Salazar was not present to hear them. Only Helga and Godric, that is, the Lady Hufflepuff and the Lord Gryffindor, ever heard them, and as such they are the only other two who understand the importance of these coincidences.”

She turned to the other two and appeared to engage in a swift, silent conversation with them. Helga stepped forward and spoke, softly.

“Master Slytherin, the three of us are in agreement. We shall remain here until such a time as your father passes or, if he may, until he recovers to such an extent that he is capable of making true decisions, for when we depart from this realm, the trees Telperion and Laruelin _must_ return with us to Hogwarts. By the laws set down by the Conference of Wizards and Witches of Lord-Level Power, we must request permission from the residing Lord or Lady of a country before removing any object, be it beast, being, spirit, plant or object of extreme historical significance, from the land it currently resides. As these laws came into place following your father’s exile, he was not subject to them when the trees were removed from Hogwarts, as unjust as the theft of them was. Indeed, the theft of the trees was partially what stirred the Conference to create the laws. However, there is a loophole, or an exception, which allows Wizards and Witches of Lord-Level Power to bypass the law should extreme need arise, after which they must answer to the Conference as a whole. As residing Lord of Romania, we must request your father’s permission before we remove the trees but mark this, Master Slytherin. Should your father pass from this world before permission is sought, then the trees may be taken freely from his lands, as there will be no residing Lord of the Realm, but that is not my main point. Should your father _refuse_ our request, then the trees will leave with us nevertheless, and we shall answer to the Conference, so dire is our need. I therefore implore you _not_ to interrupt any proceedings between your father and us, as they will be incredibly delicate, unless it appears your father will die immediately. Do you understand me?”

 

Alucard scowled at the thought of the trees being removed from their current standing, but if the tale Helga and Rowena had recounted was true, the trees were rightfully the property of Hogwarts anyway. He nodded, albeit grudgingly, and turned back to the castle.

“We must hurry; I do not know how much time is left to us.”

With that, he strode off, trusting the others to follow him, and entered the castle proper. He led the three down a twisting maze of corridors and stopped at a large, iron door. He turned and spoke to his three companions.

“Through these doors you will find my father. As you have requested Lady Hufflepuff, I will not interrupt once inside these doors, unless my father directs a question towards me or he seems in great pain. I shudder to see him so, for he has always been a proud, stern man, and this may well be his darkest hour. I bid thee enter.”

He tapped his wand to the door and it swung open, and then stood aside for the three to walk inside.

They made an incredible sight, the two Ladies and the one Lord, clad in the robes of their lines. As when Salazar had been exiled, Godric wore the scarlet robes of the Gryffindor clan, only now they were lined with a golden hem. Ravenclaw wore the deep-blue robes that were her heirloom from her mother, and had now lined it with a bronze hem, while Helga wore the amber robes of the Hufflepuff family, now lined with an obsidian hem that seemed to glisten in the light of torches. The three strode across the room, Godric in the centre, Helga to his left and Rowena to his right, and they gazed upon a raised stone dais, upon which was an emerald cloth. Upon this lay Salazar, aged beyond his years, but still clad in his emerald robes, though no alterations had been made to them. His arm, the arm which had sustained the wound almost a week ago now, was now withered and completely black, and the infection had started to spread across his chest. Rowena guessed he had but minutes to live, as the infection neared his heart, and she foresaw that there was nothing that could spare him now, not even the leaves of Laurelin herself.

 

“Hail, Salazar Slytherin, Lord of the Realm of Romania. Ill met and ill in timing is our final meeting, I guess.” Godric spoke courteously, as a Lord should when addressing another of the Conference.

Salazar’s eyes glinted as they gazed upon the figures before him, and he breathed out a response, in the manner of the Lords.

“Hail indeed, Godric Gryffindor, he that is Lord of the Realm of England. Hail, Rowena Ravenclaw, she that is Lady of the Realm of Alba. Hail, Helga Hufflepuff, she that is Lady of the Realm of Wales. Late is this hour, and ill indeed it is that you should deign to meet me on my deathbed.” He gazed up at them and coughed, a slight spattering of blood spraying forth. Alucard sprang forward but Salazar held up his hand. “Nay, my son, do not interfere. There is nought you can do now, my time approaches. Speak, if you will, My Lord and Ladies before my time fails me. Though I plead, as perhaps my final act, for at the least your absolvence if not forgiveness. I do not retract my ideals or beliefs, but perhaps the manner in which I expressed them was not wise.”

It appeared that the years in exile had softened Salazar’s resolve, if not his ideals, and the malice that had been present at their parting seemed dim, almost forgotten. Rowena stepped forward and knelt at Salazar’s side. Taking his uninjured hand, she grasped it in her own and spoke calmly.

“For the acts that you committed in the realms of Alba and England, I hereby absolve you. The crimes were not forgettable, but perhaps you may depart from this world having made your peace. But mark this, Salazar of Fen, our oath remains unbroken, and should any of your line seek to cause ill to this world, they will be utterly destroyed, and the line of Valencia shall be broken. But let us not speak of the ills we have dealt one-another in this late hour, let us talk in peace. Your son brought us to you in this hour, to meet you one last time, and it was a noble and valiant deed and well done, for it is best that we part ways on amicable terms. During our journeys, however, we have come across a matter of urgency that must be discussed before you leave for Afterworld. The trees, Telperion and Laurelin, reside in your grounds, and by the laws of the Conference I, Rowena Lady of Alba, hereby request the permission of Salazar Lord of Romania to remove the trees on our departure from this realm, and relocate them to the Realm of Alba, there to reside at Hogwarts under strict guard. But along with this, we ask but one other question. Why was the ground in which you planted them named Ezellohar? This is of incredible importance, Salazar, if I may call you such again.”

 

Salazar seemed to smile thinly before he spoke. “You may, if I may call you Rowena once more. To your first, the permission of the Lord of Romania is granted, take them unto your care, and may their light endure for a millennia more under the guard of the castle of Hogwarts. To your second, the name for the grounds of this castle came to me in a dream many years gone, as I am sure Alucard has already conveyed to you. What I have never spoken of before, however, is the origins of this dream. I believe the vision, for I now believe it was such a thing, was sent to me by Merlyn our tutor, from his tomb below your castle. Do not ask me why, I do not know. But it seemed imperative that the grounds of this castle be named such before the trees were planted. Whyso, Rowena?”

Rowena turned, still kneeling, and exchanged a glance with Godric before speaking. “There has been a prophecy, or a legend, which has followed these trees through time, and Ezellohar was mentioned therein. It is imperative that these trees are guarded, and in your declining health it is clear that Hogwarts is the safest place for the trees. I thank you, Salazar.” But she seemed troubled still and not least by Salazar’s belief in his visions origins. If Merlyn was indeed reaching out from his tomb and sending visions that aided towards the fulfilment of an ancient prophecy, then catastrophic events had already begun to happen, and they must not be allowed to come to completion.

Salazar nodded and coughed again, with a more significant amount of blood spraying from his withered lips. He looked up and his eyes glittered, as if more alive than he had been in years. A bittersweet irony, really.  
“The hour of my doom has come, and I welcome it freely. I have but one final request: burn me, completely and utterly, in the grounds of Hogwarts which was my home. Leave not even ash behind. Rowena, you know the incantation. Thank you. Farewell.”

Alucard cried out and rushed forward, taking no notice as Rowena stepped silently away from his father, eyes dim. He gripped his father’s hand, the uninjured one, and wept.

“Do not weep for my passing, my son. Be glad for my departure from the pain I endure. Son, Alucard, I pass unto you the dominion of the Slytherin House, with all its properties and dominions, along with all its heirlooms, to do with as you will, for the prosperity of our line for many long ages of this world. There is one final message that I must give before I part, Alucard, and that is this. You have made me _very_ proud, and you are a worthy successor to the Queen Maiden Valencia’s line, and as such you receive my approval and my authorisation to complete the Ritual of the Blood Magic, which will conclude when I pass from this world. Be prepared, my son, for it will be painful for a time.” He gasped and his back arched as though he had been stabbed. “May… May the Ancients bless your life and line, for my time is through. Farewell, my So…”

His final farewell was cut off by a final, bloody cough that came from his throat, and Salazar Slytherin lay dead on the dais.

 

“So passes Salazar, son of Eldarion, direct and rightful heir of Valencia the Queen Maiden of Lossarnach, Lord of the Realm of Romania, Head of the Line of Slytherin. So too pass the days of his House in the days of Evil, may the days of Alucard, his son, be blessed.”

Rowena spoke solemnly, and her eyes were saddened.

Alucard didn’t stir at the words, but staggered back as a silver light seemed to shine from his father’s breast. It brightened and then escaped the corpse of his father and started to bleed into Alucard, through his fingertips. Rowena drew back, pulling Godric and Helga with her.

“Whatever happens to the boy now, we _must not_ interfere. If he is indeed worthy of the ritual, then he will survive, though in pain. If not, then it is not our duty or right to attempt to save him. Indeed, our lives would be forfeit if we tried.”

 

Alucard screamed as the silver substance bled into him, and writhed in agony. He found his bounds expanding, and his powers magnifying. In actuality, they were multiplying tenfold, for Alucard was but a moderate wizard in terms of strength, and the Ritual of the Blood Magic allows the true heirs of a pureblooded wizard to inherit the magical power of their father upon his death. Ordinarily, this would not be a problematic ritual, as the father would be of similar power levels to the son, and the ritual merely makes up the difference in the son’s powers, rather than directly adding the power of the father to the power of the son.

In Alucard’s case, however, there was a significant difference in power levels, for his father was a wizard of Lord-Level magical power.

As the last of the silver substance entered his body, Alucard’s body radiated with the silver light that the substance itself had emanated, and he was raised into the air by some external force, his limbs splayed. Suddenly, he was dropped, and crumpled to the floor, no longer shining. Helga strode forward and turned the boy over, checking his vital signs. He was breathing, but shallowly, and he was both boiling and freezing at the same time.

“He lives, but barely. The change in power was too much for him, but I deem it only slightly too high a change. The grace of the Healer shines upon us indeed on this errand, for I gathered myself herbs of healing, such as I used for you Rowena, during my shift on guard this night just gone. It may be that my flash of inspiration in that hour may save this young man’s life.”

 

She summoned her satchel to her, which she had left by the doors of the room when they entered, and pulled out the herbs.

“There is no time to stew or boil them, but their power shall still be substantial, I deem.”

She called a cloth of cold water into existence and bathed Alucard’s forehead with it, before rubbing together leaves of Athelas and Water’s Maid and smoothing them over his face. She then spelled his robes off and, taking no heed to his nakedness beneath, as was the fashion among the young during the summer, rubbed the mixture of leaves across his chest. Where the leaves passed, the flush that had begun to rise faded, and in but moments his breathing was easier. She bundled his robes into her satchel and picked him up, turning to the others.

“He must come to Hogwarts, and at once. We shall collect the trees on our way, as was our promise, but we must go in a manner faster than that we used to come here. Rowena, do you think you could safely transport us using Alucard’s method? It would be best to use the circle of runes, as I do not yet trust to the adapted method. Godric, if you will take the Lord Salazar? His request shall be honoured.”

Godric nodded and strode forward, carefully taking the body of his friend into his arms and turning, leading the way out of the room. Helga followed first, cradling Alucard’s naked form to her. She would have robed him again, but the friction of the cloth against his skin, and the heat it would have made, may have overwhelmed his body’s senses, quickening his fever and hastening his own untimely death.

Rowena took the rear, drawing her wand in preparation for the taking of the trees, and the three left the room in silence.

 

As they left the room, the three realised that, with Alucard unconscious and Salazar dead, they had no guide to lead them out of the castle. Godric gritted his teeth and spoke in a low whisper.

“We do not have _time_ for this. I am half tempted to blast through the building to get out, and I would do so if it were not for the trees. Rowena, you are the most learned in magical lore, have you in your wisdom and research ever come across a spell that might aid us?”

Rowena thought for a long moment and then nodded, slowly. There was one spell that she had read about, and the three knew it very well, but they had never used it for such a purpose as this. She drew her wand and whispered a few phrases in Latin, before giving her wand a swift flick upwards. The silver eagle that Rowena had previously used to communicate their absence to the Deputy Headmistress once again emerged from her wand, but instead of vanishing through the wall away from them, it remained airborne before Rowena, who whispered a few instructions to it. The eagle appeared to cock its head, if eagles, or even apparitions of eagles, could do that, and then turned and swept off.

 

“It would appear we have a guide, my friends.” Rowena smiled, somewhat smugly, as she took the lead in following the bird. It led them back through the twisting maze that they had come down, and out through the main doors to the castle. Here it halted, as if anticipating the final errand the Founders had in this realm, and appeared to perch on the stone archway that led towards the village.

Rowena smiled at the bird and turned towards the trees that stood rooted in the ground of Ezellohar. Her smile faded as she looked upon the place, and an ominous wind seemed to sweep her hair aside as she raised her wand. The trees, beautiful and majestic in their appearance, made soft creaking sounds as they started to rise out of the ground on either side of her. Rowena raised her unused hand and more power seemed to emanate from it, joining with the power flowing from her wand. The earth around the roots of the trees started to part, moving out of the way of the roots in order to give them an easier exit, before refilling the earth that the trees had left absent. Finally, they were free, and Rowena stowed her wand. With a snap of her fingers, the trees were shrunk to the size of quills, and with another snap they were encased in jars of impenetrable glass. These Rowena took in her hands, before turning to Godric and Helga.

“They will be safe for the time-being, but if they are not restored to their true size and replanted soon, they will wither and die. We must make haste, now.”

She nodded at the bird and it dissipated, its task complete. Rowena led the procession out of the main gates to the grounds and gave a high whistle, akin to that which Alucard had made earlier that day.

The stable-boy, Arteau she thought his name was, came running once more from the stables and stopped short before them, gazing at the figures in the arms of Helga and Godric. He seemed to blush slightly as he looked upon Alucard in his nakedness, but the colour drained from his face as he looked upon the form of Salazar.

Rowena didn’t give the boy time to speak, but instead raised her own voice.  
“We require our steeds urgently, good sir. Your master, Alucard the Lord Slytherin, is grievously hurt and must be returned with us to the castle of Hogwarts, our residence, in order to seek healing. The Lord Slytherin that was Salazar has departed from this world forever, and it is with his final wish that we take him with us. If you would stay with your master, then by all means come with us when we depart, but that shall be as soon as you return our steeds to us, along with the Lord Alucard’s. If that is your wish, then you must inform the master of the stables, or one whom you trust, to raise the alarm to signal the Lord’s death, and to convey that the Lord Alucard returns to the realm of Alba with us. In his stead, the village must appoint a steward to watch over the Realm of Romania until such a time as the Line of Slytherin returns. Do you understand?”

Arteau nodded, ashen-faced and fearful.

“Then be swift, for our need is in haste.”

Arteau fled to the stables and returned not two minutes hence, leading the four steeds behind him. A portly man of middle-age ran from the stable and past the four founders, racing down the hill. As he reached the place that Rowena assumed was the village square, at the foot of the hill, he raised a wand and emerald sparks flew from it. At the same time, a high wail rang through the city for five seconds, before the man spoke through an amplified voice.

“The Lord of the Realm is dead, and his son, the rightful heir, takes his leave. Every inhabitant of this village, be they child, adult or senior, is to retire at once to the Village Hall.”

Rowena paid no heed to the villagers as they curiously left their houses, but instead strode towards her horse, placing the two glass jars within her satchel and swiftly mounting the beast. She looked down at Arteau and spoke.

“If you would come with us, then jump up on my steed here. I will carry you with me to the borders of the village, where we will depart by much swifter means, for the Lord Gryffindor and Lady Hufflepuff have their own burdens.”

Arteau hesitated, but with a glance towards the form of Alucard in Helga’s arms he seemed to end some internal conflict and strode towards Rowena’s horse.

“Thank you, good Lady. You are most gracious.”

Rowena looked into Arteau’s eyes, a cold blue but with a warmth unlike any she had seen before, and nodded, the stern lines around her lips and eyes softening but slightly. He put his hand on the horse’s back and made a well-placed leap onto the beast, in front of Rowena. His blonde hair fell behind him to his shoulders as he settled himself, and the horse stirred but a little under him.

Rowena turned and saw that Helga and Godric had both mounted their own steeds, with Alucard sat astride Helga’s horse but slumped, being supported only with Helga’s assistance, while Salazar had been slung over Godric’s horse almost as a prisoner, but Godric seemed not to consider this.

Rowena nodded and nudged her horse forward. As it broke into a trot, Rowena heard the hooves of Helga’s and Godric’s steeds on the path behind her. The three led their horses down the hill and through the village to its borders, where they halted and Rowena dismounted, drawing her wand.

Motioning with a sharp wave of her hand to Arteau to stay on the horse, she strode forwards ten paces and cast a fire from her wand to carve the runes into the earth. When finished, she remounted her horse and urged it inside the circle, followed by Helga and Godric. The brilliant white light started to shine again and, with a large crack, the party vanished, leaving nothing but scorched earth behind.

 

Appearing mere feet from the castle boundaries, Rowena did not wait to hear Arteau’s shocked astonishment at their apparition. Checking to make sure the others had made the leap successfully, she spurred her horse forwards into a canter, making for the castle with all haste. Flicking her wrist, the silver eagle flew forward from her outstretched hand and raced towards the castle, faster than wind, and when the party of riders arrived at the castle they were greeted with Head Matron DeMeure and Deputy Headmistress Selvix. She dismounted and aided Arteau from the horse, before stroking its mane and allowing it to walk freely in the grounds for a time.

Helga dismounted behind her and, taking Alucard in her arms, strode to meet DeMeure.

“Alison, this is Alucard son of Salazar, heir to the Slytherin line. He needs tending, and you must not leave his side until you are assured that he will recover. I will come to the Hospital Wing in due course, but there are important matters to take care of first. Thank you.”

She transferred Alucard to the matron’s arms and stepped back. DeMeure nodded curtly and turned, striding back inside the castle. Rowena motioned for Arteau to follow her, and he hesitated for only a moment before running after the matron.

 

As Godric dismounted and took Salazar in his arms, Rowena addressed the woman before her.

“Dianna, our utmost thanks for your guarding over the castle and our students over the past week. We return now with tidings and woe. The man who follows Alison is the servant of Alucard Slytherin, and both men have our leave to go where they will within the castle and its grounds, once Alucard is recovered. However, there is one more who returns with us, and his return is both welcome and grievous, for let it be known that Salazar, founder of Hogwarts, returns to it one final time.”

Dianna Selvix gasped, drew back and went to pull out her wand, but Rowena raised her hand to stop her.  
“Peace, Dianna. Salazar son of Eldarion is of no threat to Hogwarts, for he returns to us only in body, for his spirit has passed on. But, as is both ours and his will, he returns to us to be burned on a pyre, as the heathen Kings of Avalon, in the grounds of this castle. I ask that you, and as many professors as are available and not currently teaching, prepare for us a large pyre befitting a founder of this school, by the Black Lake. Do not let grudges sully this pyre, it should be grand, and you shall make it as it were one of either myself, Godric or Helga who would lie atop it, for this is Salazar’s final resting place, and it shall be a magnificent one.”

She looked sternly at the wary face of the woman before her until Dianna turned aside and nodded.

“My thanks. In the meantime, let Salazar’s body lie in state in the Great Hall. The pyre shall be lit at midnight this very day, and I would have all students, and members of the faculty, of this school attend. I have already sent my notice among the staff, and any who are teaching know to pass the message to students. I, myself, shall give the order at the evening meal. There is one final matter that needs to be conveyed to you, Dianna. The Trees return to Hogwarts, and they must be guarded beyond all else. Should these trees fall, then the very castle shall be in danger.”

And she drew from the satchel that she had taken from her horse as she dismounted the jars containing the two trees, Telperion and Laurelin. She vanished the jars and returned the trees to their true size, lowering them into the ground either side of the Entrance Hall doors.

As they took root, the flowers of the two trees seemed to shine brighter than before, as with an inner fire, and a beauty that had been lost to Hogwarts was returned. Rowena gazed at the two trees for a few moments before raising her hand and passing it over the air before the two trees. The air shimmered for a moment before stilling, and those who passed would not be able to guess the power of the enchantments that had just been placed over the trees.

“May they grow here for an age or more.” Rowena almost whispered this as she stared at the trees, and then motioned for Godric to take Salazar to the Great Hall, there to lie before the Staff Table until midnight.

As Godric strode past her, Professor Selvix stirred out of her reverie of the trees, cast a fleeting glance upon Rowena, then turned and strode behind Godric into the building. There was work to do, and she could not build a pyre so splendid by herself.

 

Rowena sighed and turned to Helga.

“Well, it appears there is work to do. If you would check on Alucard and Arteau? I will prepare the site of the pyre.”

And so Rowena and Helga parted, Rowena walking slowly towards the lake, Helga walking into the castle proper and heading for the Hospital Wing. The day passed slowly. Alucard’s fever was diminishing, but it might be hours before he was conscious again, and Helga was anxious that he attend the burning. Alison never left his side, and worked tirelessly with Helga to aid his recovery, Arteau sat at Alucard’s side. It was nearing the hour of the evening meal when Alucard’s eyes flickered open, and Arteau let out a cry of relief.

“Do not try to get up, Master Slytherin. You have suffered from quite serious magical shock, and you must rest.”

Helga spoke kindly, but firmly, and rested a hand on Alucard’s shoulder as he sat up.

“I will not require you sleep again, but you must not rise from this bed until I return from the evening meal. Arteau, your faithful servant, has travelled with us back to Hogwarts, and you are currently in the Hospital Wing under the careful watch of Alison DeMeure, our Head Matron.”

Alucard nodded slowly, then his eyes widened.

“My father…”

“Is in the same state as when you last saw him. As per his final request, we have removed him to Hogwarts with us, and he is currently lying in state in our Great Hall. He is due to be burned on a pyre at midnight, and I think it is in your best interest to attend. The entirety of the school body, both staff and student, shall be present, but none have a higher claim than you. I shall leave you for now, as the evening meal is about to begin, but I will return within the hour. Farewell for now, Master Slytherin.”

She swept from the room, allowing Alucard to take Arteau’s hand and squeeze it gently, speaking in a low, cracked voice.

“I said once before, my faithful Arteau, that you should be rewarded handsomely for your service. I do not rescind my promise, and I ask you just one question. I do not intend to return to the realm of my father, it was always his wish, though he was loathe to admit it stern and stubborn as he was, that his line flourish in the country of its origin, in the Realm of England. And, though I am certain that you should make a valiant Steward in my stead, I ask only that you remain here with me until such a time as my health fails me. Will you do this for me, Arteau?”

And Arteau, having been raised an orphan in the village and taken as a servant upon Arteau’s request, gladly gave his assent, for there was no family for him in Romania and Arteau was as close to a family as he had known. He stretched his own hand out and stroked Alucard’s hair and leaning close, as if to kiss the man, but Alucard pulled away.

“Arteau, no. I have told you before, this _cannot_ happen. I must continue my family line, it… it is the only way. The Slytherin name _must not fall_ , and I am the only one left now who still carries the blood of Valencia of Lossarnach. Do you understand me, Arteau?”

Arteau winced at the sharpness in Alucard’s voice and withdrew his hand.

“My apologies, _My_ _Lord_ , I forgot my station. If you will give me leave, I shall leave you to your well-earned rest.”

He rose from his seat swifter than imagining and went to move off, but Alucard’s hand found his and pulled him back.

“Arteau, please, you know that if the stake of the Slytherin line did not rest with me alone then this… this could _happen_ , and no-one wants this more than I. But it can’t. And that… that is my final word. You have my leave.”

Alucard’s voice was filled with pain and sorrow, but even still he released Arteau’s hand and fell back onto the bed, turning onto his side and away from the man. Arteau stared down at Alucard, tears swimming in his eyes, and was about to beg forgiveness when his resolve broke and he turned, almost running out of the Hospital Wing.

 

Helga, who had refrained from leaving immediately, had observed all this with a deep sadness in her heart from the shadows of the door to the Hospital Wing. She had slipped aside as the exchange ended and watched Arteau out of sight as he broke into a run as he left the Hospital Wing. That two young men could not find love in a place of such warmth and acceptance as Hogwarts, merely because of what was _expected_ of the one as the only member of a long-standing pureblood line, broke her heart. She knew the keen stab of a lost love only too well, and she was troubled that two men, so young in life, should know so painful a hurt so soon. But Helga could not allow herself to dwell on these thoughts. She was expected at the evening meal, and she had delayed long enough already. Quietly, so as not to let on to Alucard that she had overheard his encounter with Arteau, she slipped off down the corridor, only picking up her pace once she had reached the main landing of the fifth floor. She then swept off quickly, her robes billowing around her, and made for the Grand Staircase, that ever-so-irksome innovation of Rowena’s, and attempted to descend the stairs. Needless to say, she failed miserably, and ended up charming the staircases to move in the right directions to allow her to reach the frustratingly close Entrance Hall by the quickest route possible. Rowena would chide her for it, no doubt, but there was no harm in making sure one got to dinner on time, Helga thought.

 

She strode through the doors to the Great Hall and between the long House Tables, which were unusually quiet for an evening meal. Helga assumed this had something to do with the body, which had been covered up for the time-being, which lay before the staff table.

She nodded to Rowena and Godric as she took her seat in one of the four throne-like chairs set out for the Headmaster or Headmistress of the school. One chair, the one to Helga’s left, had been left permanently vacant since Salazar’s exile as a reminder of the deeds that had occurred, and as a monument to the co-founder of the school. In time, this tradition would be continued for the remaining founders as they each passed into death, but that was not for many years yet.

Helga ate in silence for a time, before pushing her plate away, her appetite gone. She took a small sip of wine from her golden goblet, emblazoned with her badger. Godric sat to her right and he too had stopped his meal early. He stroked a glittering sword that was sheathed at his side, almost absently. Suddenly, the food vanished from the plates and the students began to move to leave, but a cough from the High Table stopped them. Rowena stood now, and the students could see that she had once more taken her tiara out of the aged casket in her private chambers, and it glittered from her forehead where it sat perched. This was the first time she had worn it since her daughter had passed into Afterworld, and Rowena gazed solemnly at the pearly ghost that hovered near the end of the Ravenclaw House table, raising a goblet to the departed spirit of her daughter. Helena Ravenclaw gave her mother a sad nod in recognition, but did not move from her position. To her left, Godric and Helga rose too, and the two handled their treasured artefacts carefully, but in plain sight. This was the first time in many years that the students had seen the three treasures together, with only Salazar’s locket missing, as it was currently hanging on its chain around Alucard’s neck, and they marvelled.

 

Rowena cleared her throat again and spoke, sternly.

“Students, please remain seated, for the message I am about to relay to you is a matter of great import.” She flicked her wrist and the cloth that was covering Salazar’s body vanished. The students gasped in shock and fright, many screaming at the sight of the corpse. Though none were old enough to remember the Blood War, the sight of a dead body was enough to send a few of the younger students into shock, with the rest of the students terrified besides them.

“Before you lies the body of Salazar, son of Eldarion, Co-Founder of Hogwarts and Founder of Slytherin House. He passed from this life into the Afterworld but hours ago, and he was returned to his true home by myself and Professor’s Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Tonight, at midnight, he is to be burned by the Black Lake, as was his dying wish. All of you shall attend this ceremony, for none of you should be standing here today if it were not for his part in the creation of this institution. Any who fail to attend, without express leave from either myself, Professor Gryffindor, Professor Hufflepuff or Matron DeMeure, will face severe consequences. Lessons tomorrow shall be suspended in memory of Professor Slytherin. You are expected to wear dress robes, should you possess them, or smart, black robes. You are dismissed.”

The students apprehensively got to their feet and started to make their way slowly out of the hall. It was nearing eight of the hour already, and there was still much to do. Rowena strode out to the pyre to finalise the plans, Godric levitated Salazar’s body, preparing to move it outside, and Helga returned, slowly but surely, to the Hospital Wing to inform Alucard.

 

She pushed the door of the Hospital Wing open and saw Alison DeMeure bending over Alucard. She knocked quietly on the door and motioned for Alison to join her.

“Is he well enough to attend, Alison?” Helga’s voice was full of concern, much more than she could have thought possible for a person she had met just a week ago.

“He will be. Give me an hour more, then you may summon him. I have just given him a final healing draft, and he should be fully recovered soon.”

Helga nodded and swept past Alison and stared down at Alucard, who appeared to be asleep, though Helga was certain he was not.

“Leave us, Alison. Do not worry, I shall not allow him to remove from your ward until the hour is up.”

Alison hesitated a moment, lips thin, but relented nonetheless. She swept across the ward to the far door, and entered her office, closing the door behind her. Waiting to ensure that she would not emerge again, Helga sat down on the edge of Alucard’s bed.

 

“Master Slytherin, Alucard. I know you are awake, I need to speak with you.”

Alucard’s eyes opened, as if expecting this, and shot a half-glare at Helga.

“Your father’s burning will begin in a few hours, and we have had some robes prepared for you over the course of the day. Are you still intent on attending? I know it is Rowena’s wish for you to be there, but you do not _have_ to be, if it makes you uncomfortable.”  
Helga smiled warmly at Alucard, but there was something in her eyes that betrayed her anguish.

“Yes, Lady, I will attend my father’s funeral. It is only fitting. Now tell me, what is your real purpose for coming to speak to me so soon? Do not take me for a fool, there is clearly something concerning you. You, of all your company, have taken to liking me the most in our short time together; will you not trust me now?”

He looked imploringly up at the woman, and Helga relented, grudgingly.

“Earlier, after I left for the evening meal, I came back for a quick word with Alison, the matron. I overheard you talking with Arteau, and I must advise you here, do not throw away your love so rashly. Though I have known you only a short time, I can see plainly the fondness you hold for your friend, and I would not have you, young as you are, deliver yourself into a life of regret for what may have been. I know that life, and it is not one I would wish on any other person. Forgive me my intrusion, Alucard, but you need not throw your love away for the sake of your line, there are other methods for your line to continue, without forsaking Arteau.”

Alucard stared at her coldly and mulled his words over carefully before responding.

 

“You claim, Lady, to understand my pain, having _spied_ on my private conversation earlier this day. I thank you for your advice, but much as it pains me, my decision is final. No son of Salazar Slytherin is going to enter the binding ceremony with another man, not while that son is the only possible continuance of the line of my forefathers. I thank you, Lady, but I am decided.” His voice was cold, clipped, but somehow wary. Helga sighed, and started to leave. As she reached the doors to the Hospital Wing she turned and spoke, calmly.

“Your robes are with Matron DeMeure, Master Slytherin. You have three hours, I judge, before you should begin preparations. Also, Master Slytherin, _do not_ let pride govern your entire life. You will live to regret this decision, I am certain of it. Good day.”

She swept through the doors without awaiting a response from the stubborn young man and strode down to assist Rowena with preparations.

Alucard cried out in frustration and slumped back on the bed, thoughts racing through his head and heightening his stress. Of all the days to have these confrontations, it had to be the day of his father’s funeral. He screamed in anger and pounded a fist on the bed he was lying on. There was a crack as the excess magical powers he now possessed caused the flagstones beneath the bed to shatter, causing Alucard to forget his anger in a slight panic. With thoughts of Arteau still pounding through his mind, he settled into an uneasy dream.

 

Some hours later, he was nudged awake by a tentative hand. He stirred and looked into the eyes of Matron DeMeure, who was stood over him looking wary.

“My apologies, Master Slytherin, I was given orders to awake you by Half past the Eleventh Hour if you were not awake. I have laid your formal robes on the bed next to you. I’ll leave while you get changed, but call me if you need any assistance. Otherwise, please call me when you are ready, and I shall escort you to the lakeside.”

She left, striding through the doors to her office at the far end of the ward, and Alucard propped himself up on his elbows. He looked around and saw his robes on the nearest bed. They were dark emerald and made of the same heavy material used to fashion the Founders robes. They were hemmed with a silver lining, though it was faded and the deep green bled through it in places, and had vines, of a green only a shade darker than that of the robes, rising from the hemline. The robes were old, and a feeling grew in Alucard’s heart that he was not the first to have worn these robes, and he didn’t think he would be the last.

He slipped from the bed, noting that he had not been clothed since their return from Romania and noting also that he had, at some point, been disrobed, but shrugged it off. It did not concern him who saw him in his natural state, and so he stepped around the bed and felt the robes. He slipped on some underclothes and then robed himself, feeling the heavy weight of the robes press down on him. They appeared to have been modified to his form, and so hung tight, though not effeminately, to his body. He noted also that there was a wand-pocket sewn into the left-side of the robe, and stowed his wand there almost without conscious thought. All in all, the effect was quite impressive. Where before, in his Romanian robes, he appeared to be just another young man in the midst of his pubertal development, he now appeared as a man in the prime of his age, a head of a long-standing household, and magically powerful. Alucard smiled slightly, though it was more a twitch of the lips than anything.

 

He swept across the ward and tapped three times on the matron’s door, which was opened swiftly. Matron was about to cry an admonishment for disturbing her, assuming it to be another student, but stopped short, astonished at what she saw.

“Matron DeMeure, I believe you said something about escorting me to the lakeside. I should like to accept your offer, given as this castle is yet strange to me. However, I pray that we make one detour on the journey, if time allows us. I must find my serv-… my _friend_ , Arteau. There is a tension between the two of us that I would resolve before my father’s funeral, though I am unsure of where he might be. My apologies, good Matron.”

Alison DeMeure smiled now, and she nodded her head slightly. She checked a device that stood upon her desk and pondered for a moment.

“We have but twenty-five minutes until the burning is designed to begin, and it will take us at the most fifteen minutes to walk from here to the lakeside. That leaves us ten minutes to find your…” She hesitated a fraction before continuing, “To find your friend, though it would make my heart easier if we were at the lakeside five minutes sooner than is arranged, for it would do you well to look upon your father one last time. I will allow five minutes to find your friend, no more.”

Alucard nodded, absently, and drew his wand. Laying it on the palm of his hand, he whispered a muttered phrase in Latin and the wand spun around its centre. It stopped short, pointing to the east, straight through the wall of the ward.

“This should direct us to Arteau by the swiftest route, but I cannot assume how far that may be.”

Alison led the way out of the ward, Alucard close behind her, and the two followed the path of the wand until they were outside, looking up a close path with walls either side. It had only room to move in single file, and at the end of the path was a tall tower.

“That is the Owlery Tower, where the owls of staff and students rest. I imagine that is where your friend is, though it is a marvel he found his way through the castle. I expect he found a place that seemed remote and stayed. I shall stay here, but you have only two minutes before we must make our way to the lakeside. Be swift, if you may.”

 

Alucard stowed his wand and thanked Alison before moving swiftly along the path to the Owlery. He thought he could see a figure stood by the door to the tower, looking over the wall away from him, down towards the lake. Alucard glanced over the wall himself and saw a large pyre raised by the lake, with a large congregation of staff and students already surrounding the area. He shivered slightly, but shook himself. He had a task to do.

He approached the figure and as he drew close he could clearly see the form of Arteau. He turned as Alucard approached and the mix of pain, frustration and sheer misery and his face pierced at Alucard’s heart. It was all Alucard could do not to turn tail and flee, but he kept his resolve and spoke, softly.

“Arteau, please, listen to me. I’m sorry, I… I really am. If there was any possibility of continuing my line whilst being capable of… of forming a _relationship_ with you, then I would take that opportunity with both hands. Trust me, please, I would. If there was a magic that could allow the two of us to bring a child into this world, I would use it, but there isn’t, not to any known laws of magic. Please, will you come with me to the funeral? I give you my word that we can discuss this at length following the burning, but time is failing us.”

He stepped forward and brushed the hair back from Arteau’s face, where it was lying astray. He leaned forwards and kissed Arteau’s forehead, before holding him close.

“If there were anything I could do, Arteau, _anything_ , I would do it. _Believe me_.”

 

At last, Arteau LeCross relented and allowed himself to succumb to Alucard’s embrace, preventing his tears for the time-being. Pulling away from Alucard, he spoke, if not a little sharply.

“We _will_ speak about this later, Master… _Alucard_. I promise you, we will discuss this. I will do _anything_ to make this a reality, even… even if it means you having relations with a woman to continue the line.” He winced as he said it, not wishing anyone to have relations of any form with Alucard other than himself, but if it could make their relationship reality then so be it.

“Now come, we shall be late, and this must not be missed.” He slipped past Alucard and pulled him along, not noticing that Alucard’s hand found his own willingly and squeezed it as he was dragged along. Alucard smiled softly as he allowed himself to be pulled back down the path and thought to himself that perhaps, if everything went perfectly, this could happen, despite the niggling doubt hiding in the back of his mind. Regardless, the upcoming event would be easier on the both of them with their tension put aside, if only temporarily.

 

Alison led them through the maze that was Hogwarts castle and the three arrived at the lake within a quarter hour, leaving them but five minutes before the burning was due to begin. Alucard released Arteau’s hand and eyed the congregation before him. Arteau glanced at him briefly before hurrying to the front of the assembled students, where the faculty and Founders were waiting. He passed a short message, saying that Alucard had arrived and was preparing to approach his father’s body, before standing close to the centre of the congregation, where a gap had been left. The Founders nodded each in turn before appearing to vanish into nothingness, with not so much as the sound of a twig snapping. Arteau felt a rustle sweep past him, and guessed at where the three Masters of the school were now, but stayed silent.

To Alucard, it appeared that the entirety of the student population had indeed turned out for the funeral and an impressive sight it made. There were, at any one time, precisely nine-hundred and eighty students attending the school. Two-hundred and forty-five students were assigned to the four houses, and there were thirty-five students per year, per house. Or, at least, it would be so in an ideal world, but the personalities of such young witches and wizards are so different that there is usually a significant difference in the numbers for each house, and since the Blood War, Slytherin House had been lacking in students. Still, the sight of so many students, assembled in order of house and year, took Alucard by surprise for a moment. He could see the blue and bronze hems of the robes of the Ravenclaw students stood on the far left of where he stood, observing them, with the house of Slytherin stood next to them. There was a gap after the Slytherins, after which stood the students of Gryffindor, and finally the students of Hufflepuff. It appeared the youngest students were stood at the very front of the assembly, and growing older as they approached Alucard. Behind him, suddenly, there was a rustle of robes on the earthen floor and he spun around, eyes narrowed. But he relaxed, if still slightly confused, at the sight of the founders stood there, proudly, though he could not imagine how they had come to be there so silently and unobserved. He shook his head, trusting that it was some secret of the castle that only the Headmasters of the school had knowledge of, and nodded to them each in turn.

  
“I would see my father one final time before his body departs from this world, if I may.”

It was not a question, but more a statement of how this funeral was to be governed, and the founders exchanged a swift, almost imperceptible, look before nodding their approval. They stepped back, allowing Alucard to turn and begin a slow walk between the waiting, silent students. They stirred as he moved between them and some muttered soft words before being cut off by their classmates. Certainly they were not expecting the appearance of one who appeared in such garments, akin to the robes their own Founders wore, and some wondered what right he had to them.

Ignoring all muttering, Alucard swept through the students, but stopped where the assembly stopped, with nothing before him now but the pyre. He turned his head and stared into Arteau’s eyes for a moment before mustering his resolve and turning back to the pyre. He stepped forward and placed a hand on the cold, still form of his father before him. He bowed his head and spoke a few words.

“Father, you were a proud, valiant man in life, and remain so in death. Your line shall not be forsaken. I love you, Father.”

Behind him, the students bowed their heads too, despite the fact they couldn’t hear the words spoken, as a mark of sudden respect for the man before them.

Raising his head, he let his hand drop and turned to face the students, motioning with a slight nod for the three Founders to come forward. He remained silent as the three gave their own farewells to their fallen friend, and stayed so even as the three turned back to the students, but spoke finally in a cold, harsh silence.

 

“Students and faculty of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, allow me to thank you for the respect you give to my father at the moment that his body removes from this world for all eternity. My father was a noble man, led by ideals bizarre and distorted to many of you, and he committed acts that I shall not attempt to defend here. But of all who have lived through the War of Blood, the war which only the faculty of this school will remember for it was before the time of both myself and all students before me, I ask only that for this one night you put aside any bitter resentment or anger you hold against my father in order to commemorate and remember the man that _was_ , the man who helped to create a school for the teaching of the magical arts, and some of the people who stand before me today were among the first class of students at this school. Your remaining Founding Professors, the Lord Gryffindor and the Ladies Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, have graciously accepted this request. Please, follow their example and _be_ _the better man_. Thank you.”

There was a ripple of light, courteous applause as he stepped down from where he stood and returned to Arteau at the front of the congregation.

Rowena stepped forward now and spoke simply, her voice ringing through the cold air.

“Tonight we are gathered to remember a man who was both magically powerful and learned in magical lore. He was a skilled illusions master, taught in the art by Merlyn the Magnificent himself, and was capable of speaking the language known colloquially as “Parseltongue”, the language of the snakes, and is the first known practitioner of the language since Herpo the Foul. While this link should not be celebrated in and of itself, given the unfortunate experiments Herpo conducted, it is an example of the dedication and perseverance that Salazar exhibited in every waking moment, given as there is no known biological link between the two sorcerers. It was Salazar’s dying wish to be returned to this castle for his pyre, and so shall we honour him.”

She turned, Godric and Helga with her, and raised her wand high. A silver jet of sparks flew from the tip, followed by similar displays from each of the faculty, followed by the students. The display lit up the night sky, and an imprint was left forever on the wards of the castle, as a memory of its departed creator.

Alucard did not take part in the display, for he had begun to weep silently now. He was a stern, stubborn man in his own right, but the person about to be committed to the flames was a man who had raised him, taught him magic, and loved him, as reserved as that love may have been, and Alucard was never going to see that man again. Without looking at him, he leaned his head down on Arteau’s shoulder and clasped his hand.

“If we can make this work, then by thunder it will be magnificent.” His voice was nothing more than a murmur, a whisper on the breeze, but Arteau looked down at Alucard’s tear-stained face in surprise, before smiling softly down at the man. He squeezed his hand and then looked at the pyre again.

 

Rowena lowered her wand and stepped back, away from the pyre, joined by Godric and Helga.

“Farewell, Salazar son of Eldarion, may your line be blessed.” Her voice rang through the night, and yet it was soft and heart-felt. A flicker sprang from the base of the pyre and caught, licking at the wood piled there before rising quickly, and within a minute the pyre was ablaze, roaring with life, yet the body of Salazar was still visible through the flames. The pyre burned fiercely and, finally, the cloaked form of Salazar Slytherin caught the flames, the fire quickly turning what little greying hair was left to him to ashes, followed by the funeral robes. As the robes burned, a black smoke rose from the pyre and surrounded the body, shielding it from view. The fire raged for nigh on a half hour before dying, leaving behind nothing but smoking embers, Salazar’s body gone forever. But as the last ember sparked and died, a black cloud seemed to rise from the place where the pyre had stood and dissipated into the air, though none but Godric saw this, and it troubled him deeply.

Alucard turned now, drawing Arteau with him and sweeping down the column of silent students, away from the memories of the pyre. He didn’t know where they were going, but anywhere that was away from the lake would be an improvement, Alucard thought to himself.

They climbed up the Entrance Hall steps and swept through the Hall itself, beginning the climb up the Grand Staircase. The stairs seemed to move for them, as if directing them to a predestined position and purpose. As they walked, still hand-in-hand, a shadow seemed to lift from Alucard’s heart and a weight he hadn’t noticed before was suddenly gone from his shoulders. Lost in their thoughts, and in each other, they appeared unfortunately unaware that there was a shadow behind them, a shadow with no source to cast it, and which moved independently of all sources of light, seeming to defy the torches blazing along the path of the two wizards.

 

They came at length to the tallest tower that which, before the construction of the castle, had been Merlyn’s Tower of Sorcery. Climbing its spiral stairs quickly, they reached the peak and stared out. Alucard wrapped his arm around Arteau and pulled him close.

“We can make this work. A darkness in my mind lifted following the burning, and a lot of the ideals my father taught me are falling away, including his desire for an eternal line. I’d rather be happy, and fulfilled. It will be difficult, Arteau, the world does not view wizards kindly, and… and those in a relationship such as ours even less so. Even our own kind will frown upon us if we are not careful.”

 

The joy that Arteau felt at Alucard’s decision filled his very being and the two embraced for many long moments. Alucard leaned down and tilted Arteau’s head up towards his, and their lips met softly, momentarily, before Alucard broke away and contented himself by just holding the man in his arms. The two sat and looked over the grounds of the castle, cold and crisp in the night, but still filled with the beauty of High Summer. They sat, Arteau leaning his head on Alucard’s shoulder, and thought about the future.

“We can move to the fens, where my family have resided for countless generations before… before my father’s exile. I was told, in my youth, that an estate owned by the Slytherin line remains there to this day, protected by wards ensuring that none can enter except those of the Slytherin blood, or those granted access. Perhaps it still stands...” He trailed off, his eyes misting over in the oncoming of sleep.

 

The two newfound lovers lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, and drifted into sleep. For Alucard, it was the first peaceful night’s sleep he’d enjoyed since he learned of his father’s deteriorating health. For Arteau, it was the most blissful sleep he’d ever enjoyed, safe in the knowledge that his forbidden desires had been granted. That is not to say that their sleep was dreamless, indeed, they each experienced vivid dreams such as they would never know again, and they knew not from whence their visions had been sent. Arteau dreamed of green meadows at the feet of great mountains, under a swift sunrise, and of a white city, softly lit and calm. He dreamed of a ring of stones, and a great power, set around a mound of earth that held the withered trunks of two once-magnificent trees. The land was beautiful, and a calm bliss seemed to settle on Arteau as he dozed, and any message hidden within the vision was lost on Arteau when he woke.            Alucard dreamed of a high mountain peak, from where he could look down and see, through a beautiful mist, green meadows and beyond them white shores that banked a wide, glittering sea. The mountain was beautiful, blanketed in snow, and glittering in the light of the sun. As Alucard looked down the mountain, his vision seemed to sharpen and the meadows at the base of the mountain were suddenly visible to him, as if he were walking through them. He saw a figure standing on the shore and looking out over the sea and, though the figure was cloaked, Alucard knew him. As Alucard approached, the figure turned and held out his hand, which Alucard took, rested his head on the figure’s shoulder, and they turned and looked out to the sea. Alucard blinked, turned around, and a great manor-house was there, where there hadn’t been before. It was a dark building, made of obsidian bricks, three stories tall and beautiful. It seemed to Alucard to be the Slytherin Estate that his father had spoken of and, when he woke, he viewed its apparition in his dreams, alongside his newfound-lover, as a sign of acceptance from Valencia of Old.

 

There was a sound behind the dozing pair, as a clink of metal on stone, and the scraping of steel on steel. Alucard, trained from a young age to be alert even in sleep, open his eyes and blinked, listening carefully. There was another sound of metal on stone, and Alucard was certain it was a footstep. Silently, so as not to give away his awareness to the unknown person, he pressed his hand down on Arteau’s chest and whispered a wandless awakening charm. He breathed a swift instruction into Arteau’s ear, which was mercifully close.

“On my word, stand, wand out. Now.”

 

The two sprang to their feet, drawing their wands as they did. Standing back to back, Arteau whispered a swift, “Lumos Maxima”, and his wand lit. With a sharp flick of the wand, Arteau directed the light into the tower proper, where it illuminated the full chamber. All save for a space at the top of the staircase leading down the tower which remained shrouded in shadow, and no matter how hard they strained their eyes, neither Alucard nor Arteau could penetrate the darkness of the shroud. It appeared human in shape, and moved towards them slowly. Again came the metal screech, as if the figure within the shroud wore metal boots which scratched along the stone floor.

A cold, high voice came from the shroud and seemed to bite at them in its hatred.

 

“Alucard Slytherin, son of Salazar son of Eldarion. Your time is come, even as you mourn your father’s death. You cannot be permitted to pass on the genes of Valenciaon this Earth, for if you do I prophesise that a she-member of your line, fell she will be and a reincarnate of she who felled me in my time, shall walk this earth and cause the ruination of this castle before my time returns. My tomb lies beneath this school, and I shall not allow it to perish because of some schoolboy _lust_.”

A crimson light began to pulse from near the centre of the shroud and Alucard grew afraid, and something told him this figure could not be destroyed in battle. It spoke as one already dead and death was in its wake, as the crimson light pulsed one final time before shooting from the shroud straight for Alucard. His wand fell from his hand, clattering on the stone floor of the tower, and he knew he couldn’t defend himself from the oncoming rush of death. But the curse never reached him, for with a shout of fury and fear, Arteau pushed Alucard to the ground and took the curse with all his might. For a moment, it appeared that nothing happened, but then he was blasted back from the tower and hovered momentarily over the ground, many hundreds of feet below, suspended by the pulsing aura of light.

  
Alucard’s scream never left his body as whatever the curse had done to Arteau seemed to fail, and in his final moments Alucard could have sworn he heard Arteau whisper, “I love you, Alucard…” before plummeting to the earth, breaking on the ground beneath the tower. A scream of horror finally rent itself from Alucard’s lips and he turned, ignoring his fallen wand, and merely focussed all his might and magical ability at the shroud of darkness. With a sound of tearing cloth, and a sound as of a far-away scream of anguish, the shroud was gone, but the damage was done. Alucard’s screams tore through the night and many students, on their way back to bed from the lakeside, stopped short and stared, terrified, at the Astronomy Tower. The Founders, who had remained by the pyre-side to shepherd the remaining students to their beds, were suddenly alert and willed themselves, through nothing more than their immense magical powers, to the pinnacle of the Astronomy Tower. To the students below, it appeared as though they passed as black ink through water as they moved through the air, before landing, out-of-sight, on the top of the tower.

 

There they found Alucard crumpled on the floor, no longer screaming but shaking violently. Rowena tried to reach a hand out to him, but a sharp burst of energy stung her hand, causing her to flinch away. Alucard turned to her, eyes terrified but furious.

“You _swore_ to me that Hogwarts was safe. You brought us here in safetyand he’s _gone_. He’s gone…” The softness of his voice as he spoke cut through Rowena more than any wound could, and she motioned to Helga and Godric.

 

“Godric, Helga, you must get to the base of the tower, before the students discover what has happened. I fear the worst, that either by fate or by curse, you will find Arteau there. I shall examine the tower for signs of foul play. Go.”

Without question, the two once more willed themselves through the air and appeared at the foot of the tower, which was an ugly sight to behold. Bones cracked and distorted through his flesh, blood surrounding his body, Arteau lay unmoving and unmistakably dead. Helga cried out in horror, but Godric swiftly covered the body, flicking his wand and producing a silver cloth from the air.

Helga swept the students towards the castle, away from the tower and to bed, but she returned shortly once she was certain the professors would usher the students inside.

 

Atop the tower, Rowena was tracing any signs of magic from the past hour, and what she found disturbed her. She turned, eyes clouded with sorrow, to Alucard. She knelt in front of him and attempted, once more, to get his attention. He turned his eyes on her, merciless and hate-filled,, an emotion she had never seen in his eyes before and it took her aback for a moment. But she had a duty to discover the truth, and she forced herself to look into those hate-filled eyes.

“Alucard, listen to me. I do not know what happened up here, but I must, and swiftly. The lives of every person in this castle may be in danger, and only you know what happened. If you will not tell me willingly, then there are ways I can get the information from you, if I must. I do not wish to do take that path, Alucard, because in the short time we have known one another, you have become dear to me, and it pains me to see you in such grief. Please, tell me.”

  
Alucard stared at her, eyes unyielding, but he allowed her the information. He relayed to her the entire story, from the moment the two arrived on top of the tower, through their most intimate moment, and then to the attack by the mysterious figure.

“And no doubt, from his speech, he was related in some way to your _school_ , he was buried here after all.” He spat this and turned from her, standing and wrapping himself in his cloak, still shivering from shock and grief.

“I am leaving this place, Ravenclaw, and the body of… of my beloved goes with me. Tomorrow. Do not attempt to stop me, this matter is no longer yours to control.” He turned to her before dealing his final crushing statement. “And mark me, Ravenclaw, you and your school will rue the day I arrived here.” He turned on his heel and he vanished from sight, but it appeared he had travelled only to the foot of the tower. Godric and Helga fell back at the look upon his face and they retreated to the tower’s peak, re-joining Rowena.

 

Alucard stooped over the broken figure and choked back a sob as he pulled back the cover. He used his wand to siphon off the blood and return Arteau’s bones to their proper placement, so he looked as if he were merely sleeping, though his icy blue eyes would never again gaze upon the earth, and Alucard did not imagine he would return as a spirit, for few chose such a life.

He picked the body up and cradled it to him, tears still clouding his eyes. He carried it out into the grounds and, ahead of him, a black tent came into existence, as if willed there. He entered and was not seen again until morning.

 

Rowena stood still and silent, staring at the place where Alucard had vanished and not twitching when Godric and Helga appeared alongside her. She did, however, speak in a soft, stress-filled voice.

“We have a problem. Many problems, as a matter of fact. The first is that Alucard departs in the morning, with the body of Master LeCross. Please, do not try to persuade him otherwise, he wants nothing more to do with us or our school. But I fear that our troubles are not over, and what we believed to have been averted with the passing of Salazar only becomes stronger and more embittered. Alucard is determined that we three shall regret the death of Arteau LeCross, moreso than we already do, and the school itself shall regret the event of his death. I fear that, on our death, we must indeed remain as guardians of this school.” She looked at her two closest friends and sighed, deeply.

“There is something else, as well. He appeared once more, it seems, from the ashes of his tomb beneath the school. Our tutor, Merlyn, arose this night and struck the LeCross boy dead, though from Alucard’s own admission, the attack was aimed for the Slytherin heir. Our wards around the tomb must be trebled, and we must be more vigilant of the menace lurking beneath this school, and the trees _must not_ be allowed to perish.”

  
Rowena sighed and swept down the steps of the tower, Godric and Helga behind her, and made for the Head Office, where the three founders made their chambers. When they entered, the stone gargoyle at the entrance moving aside wordlessly, without requesting the usual password, they noted at once that a portrait had appeared on the wall of the office. Salazar gazed down at them, somewhat amused at their surprise.

“I daresay, my friends, that not even we who created this castle know all of its secrets. After all, what would be the fun in that? Before you ask, I know not why my portrait has appeared in this room, but I daresay mine shall not be the last.”  
Rowena smiled slightly and spoke in a slightly smug voice, evidently pleased at something.

“I know precisely why your portrait is here, Salazar. I performed a private experimental charm on this room when we first built it, so that whenever the previous, _rightful_ , Headmaster or Headmistress of the school should die, a portrait should come into residence in the Headmaster’s Office, and the portrait shall be _honour-bound_ to serve the current Headmaster or Headmistress. I had no idea if I had succeeded, but evidently I have, and that means that _you_ , Salazar, are bound to serve us in our duties, should we require you to run errands for us that only a portrait can accomplish. Do not despair, however, for as you predicted, you will not be alone forever in this room.”

Salazar scowled down at her, but spoke no more.

 

In the morning, Alucard removed himself from the tent he had erected, once more carrying the body of his best friend and short-lived-lover. Godric, Helga and Rowena were there to meet him, and they gazed sadly at the hate-torn face. He stared each of them in the eye with no pity and no mercy before speaking, his voice cold and hard.

“This will be the last time you see my face, but mark me, Founders of Hogwarts School; the line of Slytherin will _not_ fail, your trees will wither, and this school will crumble and _fall_ because of the deeds that were allowed to take place here.” He spat at their feet and turned, robes billowing in the breeze and swept away from them, down to the path and to the school gates, where he whistled for his horse. The beast galloped up to him and nudged his face, but he ignored it, draping Arteau over the horse’s back and preparing his rune circle. With a final scathing look towards the castle, he shot a bolt of fire into the wards as the white light engulfed him and he, Arteau, and the horse vanished. The bolt crashed into the wards and splintered them, allowing deep cracks to form in the otherwise impenetrable shield, cracks that would take many days to heal, and use much of the Founders’ magical strength. The wards were only saved from shattering fully by the combined force of the three founders, who wrapped all their defensive magic around the point of impact, shocked by the power that reverberated from the attack.

 

And so it came to pass that the days of darkness that surrounded the treachery, exile and death of Salazar Slytherin came to an end. But the days of evil that would engulf the world were still to come, and the line of Slytherin would rise, for Alucard son of Salazar was not beaten, and the line would continue for centuries, in the darkest corners of Britain.

 

 

-2-

 

It happened that Alucard came to the fens of that-which-would-be-Lincolnshire in the night of July 31st, mere hours after his departure from Hogwarts. The body of Arteau was still cradled in his arms as he appeared outside the gates to a large, seemingly forgotten, estate. Arteau had spent the past hours scouring the various fens of the English realm with no success, but this seemed the estate his father had told him of. The great iron gates seemed to have been wrought many centuries ago, though their age was indiscernible to Alucard and he didn’t particularly care, in any case. He stepped forwards, eyes blazing, and the gates buckled before him, crumpling into a pile of useless metal. Some invisible force seemed to resist him for a moment before dissipating and fleeing in terror at the might that was Alucard Slytherin.

He raised his voice in a terrible cry of conquest as he stepped through the boundaries of the estate and called, as if challenging anyone to contest his claim.

“I am Alucard, son of Salazar son of Eldarion the Great, rightful heir by magic and by blood to the Line of Valencia Slytherin, Queen Maiden of Lossarnach-that-was. This estate and all others belonging to Her line are hereby claimed by their true master. Any who wish to defy this claim have until eleven of this very evening to make their defiance clear.”

The wards rang with music as Alucard swept up the cobbled path to the main entrance, as if they were already welcoming their estranged owner back home. The doors swung inwards as he approached and he paced through the house until he found the main hall, in which he laid Arteau’s body. He then turned and, glancing warily around, muttered under his breath.

“Homenum Revelio.” No traces were picked up by the spell and so Alucard at last let down his guard, crumpling beside the body of Arteau. He cradled Arteau’s head in his lap and wept for what seemed an eternity.

“Arteau, oh Arteau I am sorry… We had so much time ahead of us and I _couldn’t save you_. Why did you have to take that curse for me, Arteau? I could have dodged, surely? You know how nimble I can be in times of urgency, why… Why could we not have more time?”

Alucard gasped through his tears as he said this, still unwilling to believe that his faithful servant and, almost, lover was gone.

 

Steeling himself, he rose and swept out of the room, leaving the hall locked and warded. If his detection charm had failed and there was someone in the manor other than himself, they would not touch Arteau’s body. Alucard swept through the manor, sizing it up and making a mental map of the building, intent on writing down every nook and cranny at a later date. But for now, there was but one thing that interested Alucard, and so he swept into the grounds of the estate. Behind the manor proper was a small plot of land, enclosed by a waist-high spiked iron fence. The gate swung open as Alucard approached and he cast an appraising eye on the land that was the Slytherin Family Cemetery. He cast an eye over tombs, no doubt with the skeletal remains of the Slytherin line, with inscriptions in Latin. He saw “Elphias Slytherin” marked on one tomb, and near it lay “Antonin Slytherin”. None of these names seemed to matter, however, when he caught sight of a marble tomb with the inscription “Here lies Eldarion, son of Anarion, father of Salazar. May his memory remain in this household for an age of this world, until the impurities of the blood have been cleansed forever.”

Alucard was gripped with a sudden understanding regarding his father’s ideals and he resolved that a tomb should be erected, though empty it would stand for all ages, commemorating Salazar as Alucard had known him. But there was one other tomb to erect first, and choosing the plot of land closest to the centre of the cemetery, Alucard raised his wand and a black tomb, wrought of marble, seemed to materialise out of the inky darkness of the night. As the form settled, Alucard gave his wand another flick and golden letters were carved into the lid of the tomb.

“Here lies Arteau LeCross, son of Cadmus son of Illius. Faithful servant to Alucard son of Salazar, and lovingly remembered for all time. May his rest never be disturbed.”

Alucard gazed down on the tomb in silence before nodding and turning back towards the manor. He carefully carried Arteau’s body out of the hall where it had been left and out to the tomb. With a nod and a focussed shift of magical power, the lid of the coffin was levitated away from the base and Alucard laid Arteau’s body gently to rest. He used his wand to sever a lock of his dark hair and laid it on Arteau’s breast, alongside Arteau’s wand. He leaned in one last time and kissed Arteau’s brow, before withdrawing himself and, with a flick of his wrist, motioned the lid of the tomb to slide back into place, sealing inside the body of Alucard’s one true love until the end of days.

 

Alucard turned, tears once more brimming in his eyes, and walked back to the manor. From that time on, every year on July 31st, Alucard would walk out, alone, to Arteau’s tomb and would lay a single red rose atop it. He continued this tradition, always longing for the love that only Arteau could have truly reciprocated, until his dying day. Until then he took a wife, Sinistra, who bore him but a single child during Alucard’s 78th year, who Alucard was adamant would be named Arteau. Alucard taught Arteau in the same manner of morals as his father had taught him, and so the first seed of destruction was planted in the line of Alucard Slytherin. This seed would prosper and flourish over many generations before it would send forth its poisoned apple, but that was many centuries down the line.

Alucard lived to see his 158th year, outliving Sinistra by more than a decade, though Sinistra was the first to not be granted any memorial in the Slytherin Family Cemetery. When it came time for Alucard to die, he thought still of Arteau his lover, and requested his son bury him alongside Arteau’s tomb, in a casket of identical proportions and likeness. This his son did, though he had never been told of the brief romance between his father and his namesake.

 

Arteau himself took a wife, Gabrielle Sylenz, and between them two children were born. Alistair, who was killed by a wild beast in only his third year of life, and Luciana. Thus, with the marriage of Luciana Slytherin to Ignatius Peverell, son of Cadmus, in the year 1167 of the current age, the line of Valencia Slytherin Queen Maiden of Lossarnach became extinct in the male line, for no other child was born to Arteau and Gabrielle and Arteau himself passed into Afterworld in the year 1312, within months of his wife.  Thereafter, the Slytherin Estate barred access to all who tried to enter or dwell therein, though the Family Cemetery would create for itself a monument to any of the line when they passed, until She who may claim the rightful heirship to the line should walk the earth, and the line of Slytherin, though wealthy in the beginning, began to decline and to live in lesser conditions. It was in this year also that Belladonna Pendragon married Gregoire Devereux and the line of Arthur the Magnificent was lost, while the line of Gryffindor was lost, for Perenelle Gryffindor married Viktor Arven.

The poor circumstances of the Slytherin line only worsened following the marriage of Artemesia, daughter of Luciana, to Darius Gaunt, for the Gaunt line was known for squandering its fortunes mindlessly, though it was many years before the wealth of the line of Slytherin would decline into nothingness.

However, of all the treasures that bore historical value that belonged to the line of Slytherin, the locket of Salazar and then Alucard was passed down, parent to child, in an unbroken chain for many generations, and was soon joined by the Ring of Cadmus Peverell, emblazoned with a queer design of a triangle enclosing a circle, through which was strewn a single line, and none of the family could understand the meaning behind the symbol, other than suggesting it as being the Peverell coat of arms. Along with these heirlooms came a cruel teaching of Pureblooded traditions, rituals and morals, alike to that which Salazar was taught, and these teachings passed through each generation in turn, become more embittered as the years wore away.

 

In time, Artemesia bore a son, Arvedui, who would attend Hogwarts School as the first in the line since Salazar assisted in its founding, and this tradition too survived the generations. Since Arvedui, all members of the line of Slytherin were sorted into the house of their ancestor, and it was seen as unusual that in such a long-lived family, not a single member became what was colloquially termed a “Hat-stall”, and not a single member strayed from their “genetically inherited” house. Upon graduation from the school, Arvedui took Walburga Black as his wife, and she bore the pair a son, Eldarion.

From Eldarion, the line of Alucard Slytherin continued for many generations, spanning many hundreds of years. Their line saw the rise and fall of mighty kings and emperors, the defeat of countless Lords and Ladies, of both the light and dark, and, more often than not, they played a key role in the defeat of those who attempted an invasion on the British homeland. In this time the land of their forebears, and the estate of Slytherin, had fallen out of all living memory, along with the secrets of their kin. Still, even at the birth of Morfin, son of Marvolo Gaunt and Anastasia Malfoy, the heirlooms of their ancestry remained in the family. Morfin was born in the year 1892, three years the younger of his sister, Merope. By this time, the Gaunt line had been reduced to living in a dilapidated shack on the outskirts of the muggle village of Little Hangleton, their wealth squandered fully by their ancestor Annatar, husband of Bellatrix Sylvan.

The family of Marvolo Gaunt was possessed with a strange ability, one which had not been seen in their line since the days of Salazar himself, and the day Marvolo inherited the shack he nailed a snake to the door as a mark of their ability. The family had regained their ability of serpent-speech, that which some call Parseltongue, and would speak only in this language among themselves, for it seemed natural to them.

In time, Morfin took for himself a wife, Perenelle of the line of Dalianis, itself a distant branch of the line of Dianis, the line which Celestina wife of Salazar belonged to, being descended from Celestina’s sister, Cliodne.

Despite the poor conditions of their household, Perenelle was a proud woman, keen in wit and sharp in tongue.

 

It happened that, on a cold, dark night, a high shriek came from the shack as Perenelle brought her only child, she that was called Morgana, into the world. Morgana made her mark on the wizarding world swiftly, for within but two minutes of her birth, a knife had shot across the single room of the shack and slashed through Marvolo’s spiteful, sneering face, leaving him scarred until the end of his days. Though the wound was staunched and the blood-loss minimised, and although no blame could satisfactorily be placed upon Morgana, Marvolo held a certain distain for her for the rest of his life.

 


End file.
